


Moon River

by Rangersyl, Taiamu



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rangersyl/pseuds/Rangersyl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taiamu/pseuds/Taiamu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Lake Silencio inexorably approaching, the Doctor wonders if it's time to fulfil his first and last promise to River. But the River he finds isn't used to being the one who has to say 'spoilers.' So they compromise: an archaeological expedition on a stormy, hostile moon where an ancient danger lurks behind every shadow. Now complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to S. and CeeAre for their enthusiasm and support, and to Thanatosx49 for the beta.

Prologue

The face in the mirror was dour and pale. The Doctor ran a hand over his chin -- impeccably shaved by a straight razor on Savile Row -- and assessed the image. His newly-trimmed hair curled just at the ends, this new style sleeker than the last. He hoped she liked it. He straightened his white bow tie until it was perfectly aligned with the collar of the newly-pressed tuxedo shirt. He inspected his tall top hat, and brushed the silk until the fabric shone. 

He took a long steadying breath and turned his attention to the object on the TARDIS console.

It was a sonic screwdriver, silver and gold with a blue light on top. He eyed it critically, as if it were merely a piece of electronics he meant to perfect. In retrospect (or was it foresight) he didn't necessarily approve of the finger loop, but the basic design could not be altered. He opened the hidden panel and checked the memory buffers. 

The device weighed heavy in his hand, and his arm (and hearts) sank with the load. Still, there was nothing to be done, no time left and nowhere else to run. Lake Silencio loomed ever larger and closer as time inside the TARDIS flowed on. He desperately wished that he didn't have to set River on the path to her death (even as he was on the path to his own) but he had made a promise, long ago: he wouldn't change one line of their history, no matter how unfinished it felt right now.

To honour that promise, he had to make this visit before she killed him.

He contemplated presentation, and gently placed the sonic screwdriver in a velvet-lined ebony box and snapped it shut. He set it on the console, but as soon as his hands fell to his sides, they reached up to snatch it back. He tore it out of the box and thrust it into the receptacle on the console, running one more set of diagnostics. The TARDIS responded with a series of chirps -- mem checksum valid. 

With trembling hands, he removed it from the console and reached for the box. In the end his nervous fingers, of their own volition, slid it instead into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket, next to his own screwdriver.

One last look in the mirror. In the past, he may have chided himself at the tears that flowed down his face. But not now; too much water under the bridge, too many loved ones lost. Stoic visage be damned.

Still, it wouldn't do. She deserved the best of him. 

So he took a deep breath, then another, and so on until he regained control of his emotions and his features. He pasted on a reasonable facsimile of a cheery face, and made sure the gleam reached his eyes. 

It was time. 

He switched his timeship out of cloaking mode and strode to the TARDIS doors. Without further preamble, he stepped outside...

... into a shower of nearly-scalding water.

The Doctor yelped.


	2. I: Come in, Stranger

Stormcage had two seasons -- cold rain and hot rain, and this was the cold season. The damp crept into everything without respite -- the metal of the cot frame as River huddled under thin blankets, the chill in her fountain pen as her numb fingers tried to write an entry in her diary. There was but one small heating vent in her cell, which she reserved for warming her socks. 

In the cold season, the daily shower was an absurd ritual, both relished and feared. Stripping off ones clothes and standing naked in a too-large, drafty tiled room seemed contrary to logic. River couldn't help but shiver as her feet went numb on the cold, wet floor. When the water first started, it was barely lukewarm and not inviting at all. But if she could endure the first minute or so, she was rewarded with a slice of heaven. She took as long as the guards would allow, standing under a scalding cascade that first warmed her and then eased her tight, aching muscles. It only took a minute or two for River's scowl to turn into a grin as she worshipped at the steaming fountain. 

Today, though, she hadn't yet rinsed her hair when she heard a thud and a creak, seemingly emanating from the plumbing. Not long enough! River cursed and waited for the inevitable rush of cold as the hot water ran out.

She stuck her head under the spray, rinsing quickly before reaching for the faucet, opting to switch it off before the shock of ice-cold water rained down on her. 

Except, the pipes yelped.

River spun around, crouched in a defensive position. When she saw the intruder, she blinked in shock and straightened. Before her stood her husband, dressed in sodden (but fetching) top hat and tails. He wiped his dark, wet fringe from his eyes and focused on her. "Oh, River, it's you. Good. Hi honey, I'm home."

River choked back a laugh. "You certainly know how to make an entrance." She turned off the tap, and stood watching him, a hand on her hip.

His eyes darted downwards, and, as if just now noticing her nakedness, dilated comically. He gave a start, but she noticed his gaze lingering over her curves.

She raised an eyebrow. "Enjoying the show?"

"Yes," he said in a high-pitched squeal, bringing his gaze to meet hers. It drifted down again. "I mean no. But yes... um, are you the only one in here?"

"Aside from the guards outside? Yes." She eyed him expectantly. Belatedly, he removed his jacket and offered it to her. She shook her head and smiled softly, reaching for a thin, rough towel instead. She plucked the sodden hat from his head and shook it. Rivulets of water hit the floor, and she took a moment to mourn her (only) favourite hat of his. "To what do I owe this surprise visit?"

"Oh, right." He cleared his throat. "Let me take you away. For a night out. A... date," he said conspiratorially.

She blinked, surprised. When were they? She'd need to find out, but right now he was much too fun to wind up. She leaned toward him, voice low. "That sounds like a fabulous idea. But don't you think you should let me get dressed first?"

"Oh, right. Yes. I mean, pity, but-" He slapped his hand against his brow in frustration at his own ineptitude. "Sorry, this isn't going as planned." He snapped his fingers and the TARDIS doors opened, and he made a grand gesture towards the time ship. "Your chariot -- and her wardrobe -- await."

"Well, hello Sweetie." River waltzed into the TARDIS, as if she were wearing an evening gown instead of a towel.

 

* * *

 

The Doctor followed River as she swept into the TARDIS. He closed the doors behind him, and leant against them. The weight of the new screwdriver in his pocket dragged his hearts to the floor, anchoring him in place. He watched River, so vibrant and so alive, walk up the ramp. The prison-issue soap overwhelmed her natural scent, and he found himself anxious for it to wear off. Her feet left a trail of little wet footprints on the glass.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow arched. "Are you coming? Or are you just going to stand there and stare?"

"Hm?" The Doctor stirred and focused again on River, or at least, River in the here and now.

She winked at him, and his hearts skipped a beat. She trailed her hand along the console as she read the scanner readouts. "You pre-entered our destination -- that's uncharacteristically organised of you. Darillium. There are towers that sing? How intriguing." Her eyes lit with curiosity, and in her distraction the towel slipped a few inches down her torso.

He walked slowly up the ramp, mind racing. Not now. She couldn't die; he couldn't send her to her death. Instead, he found himself yearning to reach out to touch her, feel her warmth under his hands. 

He shook his head, clearing it. Rule 408: Time is Not the Boss of Me. Striding forward, he grabbed the scanner and pulled it aside, just as she released it to hike up her towel. 

"Singing towers? BORING!" he announced, "Where would you like to go, River Song?"

"The towers sound thrilling... " She eyed him speculatively. "But if you're in the mood for something different, how about this?" She recaptured the scanner from him and moved to the navigation panel, typing in keystrokes on the ancient typewriter built-in to the console. The TARDIS hummed into motion. "Not exactly the sort of evening you had planned, but..."

Relieved, he bounded up to stand beside her at the controls. His mind was made up -- he would go anywhere, anywhen. Just not Darillium. Not today. "I'm sure it's loads better than what I had planned. Ooh, look, archaeology?"

"Well, I am an archaeologist. I suppose I should start acting like one."

"Quite right, too. You know what this means?"

She leaned against him and lowered her voice. "No, tell me, what does this mean?"

He tapped her nose with his index finger. "I'm off to find my tweed!"

She rolled her eyes and headed for the TARDIS wardrobe.

 

* * *

 

River eagerly surveyed the wardrobe, which was less a closet and more a series of dressing rooms. Racks of clothing from every time period (and practically every culture) lined each wall. She shook her head. "All of this, and he only wears one outfit." Well, two, if you counted the dinner jacket. He'd looked quite fetching tonight, despite the drenching.

River flicked through the clothing, looking for something suitable for the rough terrain and wild weather of the Moon of Orr. "Hmmm... fleece... cloak? No, too cumbersome." She settled on a blue fleece sweater and matching wool jacket. Heavy, durable fabric that would withstand the elements.

She chuckled again at the image of the Doctor, fine evening wear soaked, a rueful expression on his face. He'd seemed like an overgrown puppy in his excitement.

She picked out a pair of knee high black boots.

He'd obviously had a more refined destination in mind. She wondered if he'd enjoy scrabbling about the rocks and digging in the dirt with her.

River grinned at the thought. Despite his rough-and-tumble lifestyle, the Doctor seldom allowed himself to be ruffled, as if it would take something truly momentous to set his bowtie askew. Her grin widened. "I can do that." Her smile faded as she remembered the intense looks he'd been giving her ever since arriving at Stormcage.

Normally, she'd be flattered by his regard, but this was different. Almost as if he were seeing her for the first time, or not seeing her at all. She let out a frustrated grunt. He'd been extremely Doctorish tonight: cute, charming, a whirling dervish. And yet, he'd said nothing of substance, hadn't even thought to compare notes on their respective timelines.

And she had the vague and nagging sense that he was running. From what, or to what, she had no idea. It set her teeth on edge, like the cloister bell in the TARDIS sounding a warning: wrong, wrong, wrong.

Still, perhaps this trip was just the thing to shake him out of his malaise.

She found a utility belt stuffed in a corner and unrolled it. Brown leather, worn with use. She clipped it around her waist and began filling it with odds and ends: geographic micro scanner, a torch, hammer and chisel.

Satisfied, she left the wardrobe, a spring in her step and her mind full of the possibilities of Orr. It was time to show him who River Song really was.

 

* * *

 

Her course set, River was striding purposefully to the control room when she felt it, a ripple of free-floating irritation mixed with anxiety. She touched the corridor wall, felt the minute changes in the hum of the TARDIS. "Good Lord, what is he doing up there?" The ripple of irritation increased. "I know, I know...I'm hurrying." She picked up her pace and skidded the last few yards into the control room as the TARDIS lurched under her feet. "What's happening?" she demanded.

The Doctor was doing his familiar manic dance around the console, flipping switches and levers. The TARDIS lurched again, and he nearly face-planted into the jumpseat. The Doctor's shoes skidded on the glass floor, but he jumped right back to the console. "The HADS activated, can't think why -- ooh!" He slid again as the ship lurched in the other direction. He clung to the console to remain upright.

River ran to join him. She placed a hand on the console and felt the TARDIS hum under her fingers, like music. River frowned. There was a discordant note -- just there. She tapped out commands on the ancient typewriter and read the results on the bouncing screen. "There's some sort of interference. I'm not sure -- have you checked for gravity compensation?" She reached out and grabbed hold of the first thing her hand touched, a cross between an old-earth gearshift and a pocket watch. It dinged. River rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I've checked for gravity compensation," the Doctor said testily. He then scrambled to the navigation panel and flipped a switch. "See, no gravity compensation, it's something... can you run a diagnostic? I'm switching to manual." He stepped and skidded to reach a point where he could access the navigation and helm controls.

River punched a few buttons and a long stream of paper spat out from underneath the console. She grabbed it and squinted at the readouts. "There's a plasma field out there. It's huge." The TARDIS shivered and River fought for balance. "No, it's two fields -- three." She shook her head. "We can't land here, she won't let us." River set a series of switches, intending to reverse course, but the TARDIS squealed. "What the--?"

"We're caught in the field -- no turning back! Lovely little planetoid you've found." The Doctor grinned maniacally at her. He stepped to his right, wordlessly relinquishing the navigation and diagnostic controls. She picked up where he left off, her hands moving with practised ease. She spared a moment to lay a comforting hand on the console, then braced for what she knew would come next. 

"Geronimo!" the Doctor shouted just before flipping several levers, effectively disabling all the automated functions -- including the safety.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and the TARDIS whined in protest. River hung on grimly, rapidly making the minute adjustments required to maintain orientation. To her right, the TARDIS scanner went into overdrive, spitting out information in a Gallifreyan dialect River didn't recognise. The lights flickered, and then died.

They were still flying. Her hands skimmed over the controls blindly as she tried to guide the ship by touch.

Beside her, the Doctor, brow furrowed in concentration and face buried in the viewfinder, was busy with the controls, his hands moving quickly. When the lights went out, his face was momentarily lit with the eerie glow of the viewfinder, and even that blacked out a nanosecond later. 

The ship rattled and lurched, then went silent. 

For a long moment, she stood still, breathing hard. And then River spoke, " _That_ was interesting."

The Doctor laughed. "Threading the needle on manual is a lot easier when you've got a co-pilot."

"Was that a compliment?" River slid under the console. There was a sizzle and pop, and the controls lit with a warm ambient glow. A few moments later, the room itself followed suit, section by section, as she restored the emergency power.

He grinned. "Why yes, yes, it was." He ran a hand through his still-damp hair and exhaled loudly. "So," he said as he swung the viewscreen to her, “is this where you wanted to be?"

She blinked at the display of unending blackness, then checked another readout. "The timezone is correct, give or take. But we're about one hundred kilometres southwest of the epicentre. She wouldn't let us materialise directly." River absently patted the console. "It's a bit darker than I imagined." Leaning closer to the screen, she thought she could make out a set of inky boulders. She shook her head. "Maybe the scanners were damaged in the landing."

"I don't think that's it -- we're inside the mine shaft. That is, if my piloting was correct. And it's always correct."

River snorted, and brought the external sensors online. "Let's check environmentals first -- make sure the air is breathable." 

He used a panel on the console as a mirror and knotted his bowtie. "So why are were here, Dr Song? What have you got for me this time?"

"Oh, you know. Dusty ruins, mysterious circumstances ... an age-old curse." She grinned. "Seeing the past the old fashioned way, through hard work and dirt and pages of yellowed paper that take three days to translate." River batted his hands away from his bowtie. "Will you stop fussing? You'll make it worse."

He allowed her to fix his bowtie, a dreamy smirk set on his face, "So we're going on a dig, that's new." He rubbed his hands together, "Does that mean I'm your team? Never been a team on a dig before, though there was that one time ..."

"Which time was that?" The console pinged, and River glanced toward the viewscreen. The outside view had been replaced by a graph. "Atmosphere thin, but breathable, more or less."

"What about gravity?"

"It's lighter than Earth standard. Radiation levels -- well. It'll have to do."

"Well, that's good news, then. Shall we, Dr Song?" He offered her his hand.

She slid her fingers into his. "I can't wait. But aren't you forgetting something?"

"I love new planets!" he declared as he tugged open the TARDIS doors.


	3. II: Dark as a Dungeon

The dim light cast by the TARDIS was quickly swallowed by the inky black of an enormous cavern. They were most definitely inside a mine, in a major shaft. The rock ceiling stood a good 20 metres or more tall, enough to accommodate what must have been enormous equipment. River unclipped her torch from her utility belt, but the beam couldn't reach the walls of the chamber. 

River felt a layer of dirt beneath her boots before the ground gave way to rock; she leaned down and ran her fingertips through the dust. It was soft to the touch. "It's sediment," she murmured, "but so fine..."

"Bertrillium mine," the Doctor said as his eyes rapidly scanned the area, "cracking rocks on a molecular scale to extract the bertrillium -- atom by atom."

River stood and dusted off her hands. As they circled slowly, taking in their surroundings, she gave voice to a concern that had been gnawing at her. "Sweetie, before we go any further..."

"Look at those arch supports," he said to a section of wall that had captured his interest. "Those are refined admantium, amazing construction. This lot was built to last..." He ran his fingertips along white mineral deposits that caked onto the structure. "That's odd." He licked it.

River grimaced.

"Pah! Ahh, pih, pih," he tried to spit away the taste, “blech, that's the most foul-tasting oxidation I've ever had the misfortune to test."

"You should take better care of your tongue," River said, "I may need it later. Sweetie!"

"Yes?" He turned away from the wall and faced her. "Isn't that interesting, I'm answering to 'sweetie' now. Never saw that one coming..."

"Doctor!"

He stood up straight and snapped his mouth shut. 

"Don't forget your rules, they are your rules, after all. When are we?"

"Oh, right. Um, we've done Berlin."

River rolled her eyes and pointedly ran a hand down her side. "Of course we've done Berlin." A chilling thought gripped her. "What about Area 52?"

The Doctor visibly relaxed. "Oh, you mean Area 51. Yep."

River went completely and utterly still. With effort, she pasted a smile on her face. "Right then, we're good." She watched him putter about the room, her thoughts spinning. "I'm... going to take a look at those tunnels over there." She didn't wait for acknowledgement before she ducked behind the TARDIS and moved several steps down a service tunnel. She leaned against the wall, pressing her cheek against the rough coolness of the stone. He doesn't know. There is so much he doesn't know!

Their wedding, she ticked off the missing pieces, Calderon Beta -- their entire marriage. Area 51, not Area 52. He was somewhere between Berlin and their wedding. He'd taken her comment as a slip of the tongue -- hopefully he wouldn't think any more of it. Her heart broke at the thought of disrupting that precious timeline.

Panic rose up within her. The weight of responsibility settled inexorably onto her shoulders. River closed her eyes. She felt the old urge to run, and keep running. Once, she'd envied the Doctor his knowledge of their future. Now she saw how fragile that future was. Whoever had said that knowing was half the battle had been dead wrong. Knowing created complications. Her entire timeline -- and a good section of the Doctor's -- could go pear-shaped with something as momentous as death, or as small as a misplaced cup of tea. And she dared not breathe a word to the Doctor, the one man in the cosmos who spent his entire life mucking about in time. River choked back a laugh that was not quite a sob as she imagined personally chaperoning him to every major event in their timeline, ensuring that everything went just so.

She leaned against the cavern wall as she felt the anxiety drain away. She wasn't anyone's idea of a champion. But then, neither was he. Her lips quirked upwards. "God help us both."

"River, where are you? Don't wander off! That's Rule One, remember?"

_No, Sweetie, that's not Rule One_. "I'm here," she swallowed down the emotion that threatened to rise in her throat. Hastily (and a tad too forcefully) she pounded the controls on her scanner. "There should be generators nearby," she called back to him, "no life forms detected. I'm going to see if I can get the lights back on."

The Doctor paused a moment in his reply. "Okay then. Don't dawdle."

His concern -- distracted as it was -- brought a smile to her lips. He was still the Doctor, though he may not be entirely _her_ Doctor yet. "Don't worry, Sweetie, my timing is impeccable," she tossed back to him as she set off down the corridor.

 

* * *

 

MOTION DETECTED...  
MOTION SUSTAINED.  
.  
.  
SURVEILLANCE THRESHOLD EXCEEDED  
/AUTOWAKE/  
.  
INFILTRATION SUBROUTINE ACTIVATED.  
INITIATE MONITORING  
DATASTREAM OPENED...  
.  
.  
ACTIVATE SENSOR UNITS...

* * *

The Doctor listened to River's footsteps as they retreated down the corridor. When she was gone, he leaned against the rockface and screwed his eyes shut. 

Get a grip, old man.

He took a deep, steadying breath and stretched out that most subtle of Gallifreyan senses, the timesense. Timelines stretched out from him, like an elaborate web of gossamer, delicate but possessing the greatest tensile strength in the universe. They connected the rocks in the quarry with one another, with the equipment that hewn them, and with himself, who stood as a witness a century later. 

The strand that bound him to River was easy to find: impossibly bright and impossibly strong, it dwarfed everything in the vicinity, only his link with the TARDIS was stronger, but River shared that, too. When he first noticed it -- the tangle of River's timeline -- it frightened him like little else had, but now it was a source of comfort, of companionship, of ... fun.

He gave a short laugh, but his concentration did not break. 

This River was younger than others he'd met, he could see that now. It hadn't been his intention when he landed the TARDIS, but the old girl probably made the last-minute adjustment along with the joke she played on him in the shower. It was a good joke, he had to admit, and his concentration nearly did break when he recalled the mental picture of River, wet and magnificent and... yowza.

He cleared his throat and tried again.

He tested the timelines; River's was tangled like a Time Lord's, yes, but also malleable like a human's. She was still full of endless possibilities. The thought gave him comfort -- the TARDIS was correct in rerouting him, clever old thing. There was still unfinished business. 

* * *

SCANNING...  
.  
.  
SUBJECTS ISOLATED  
BILATERAL SYMMETRY BIPEDAL HUMANOID.  
INCURSION IDENTIFIED.  
COUNT 2  
CAPABILITY RATIO Y OVER P STRING ALEF  
THRESHOLD DETERMINATION...  
THRESHOLD MET.  
/WAKE/ SECURITY SUBROUTINE.  
.  
.  
UPLOADING DATA...

* * *

River moved further into the tunnel, stepping over bits of broken mining gear and other flotsam. She kept one hand pressed against the wall. The concrete was slick with moisture, and cold. The floor rose gently beneath her feet, leading her to the centre of the complex. At least she thought it was the centre. She squinted at her scanner. It still indicated faint energy readings ahead of her. She kept going, her breath crystallizing in little puffs.

The tunnel ended in a chamber which was carved roughly out of the rock. She ducked beneath some dangling wires and examined the room. Great heaps of machinery -- turbines and a variety of drive systems lined up in rows throughout the power plant. They were in shambles: some had been wrecked, others were obviously missing parts, and one bertrillium-fuelled drive looked like it had melted.

Somewhere to her left, she could hear the faint ping of water dripping on metal.

She found a small turbine -- probably a back-up generator -- and gave it an experimental turn. The blades left rust stains on her gloves, but they obligingly spun. There was hope, then.

River found a nearby control panel and patched her scanner into the rusty port. It provided just enough of a charge to activate the controls. She found a communications interface -- excellent. Recalling the posted signs on the tunnel they had landed in, she punched in 'access Hatch 2, subsection 420' to contact the intercom panel near the TARDIS.

"I've found the generator," she said, "several, actually. One may be salvageable. The damage is astounding, I don't think this was simple neglect."

The speakers gave a massive, ear-piercing squeal in response. "Doctor, did you hear me?" She frowned at the scanner and checked her connection again.

Another squelch. "Oh, hullo," she heard several taps and pictured him hitting the intercom to test it, "River?"

"I'm here," she replied, and gave the scanner a strange look. What's going on over there? He sounded bemused. "Are you all right?" Briefly, she wondered if he'd managed to get himself lost.

"Fine. I'm always fine. How are you?"

"I'm all right." Unease crept through her. "There's only one working turbine down here. I'll see what I can do with it. Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar?"

"Um, you. And your Mum. And Dad."

She pried an access panel loose and started pulling wires from the generator, splicing green with blue and rerouting energy to the least damaged of the two power cells. "Then you should know you're not fooling anyone with that absent-minded professor routine. Fair warning."

Tying in the last of the battery power in the console, she sent a pulse of electricity though the generator. It wheezed, and with a thump, whirred to life. The turbine lurched into motion, gathering speed. The lights flickered and River gave a whoop.

"Oh! You turned the lights back on,” the Doctor’s voice was tinny through the speaker. “Nice work, Dr. Song. What would you like to do next?"

"How about finding out what my future husband doesn't want to tell me?" she muttered. Over the comm, she said: "I'm bringing up the schematics for this complex now." She circled a section of the map and sent it to the intercom panel he was using. "This seems to be a control room. Why don't you head there and we'll see if we can't get some of this equipment operational? Routing a copy of the map to you now."

"Right. Got it. See you there."

She retraced her steps through the tunnels, musing on the Doctor's distraction. For someone who prized living in the moment, he wasn't exactly embracing his own philosophy. River picked her way over rocky outcroppings and long forgotten tools. There was something not quite substantial to him, as if he were more spirit than flesh.

River snorted. You're letting your ghost stories get to you, Dr Song. Still, she had to fight the urge to grab him and shake him and shout: "Stay here, with me!"

She halted as a new thought occurred to her. What if...? He couldn't be that close to Lake Silencio, could he? River revised her mental timeline. His behaviour fit: the desperate cheerfulness, the distraction. She didn't know if she wanted to hit him or kiss him. Oh, Sweetie. You're so wrong. The Doctor was wrong. She paused to muse on that novel fact. It would be amusing if it were under any other circumstance.

No wonder he was out of sorts. He's closing accounts, wrapping things up before he dies. She flinched. Before I kill him. Had he even considered an escape from his fate? At the time, that terrible time filled with astronaut suits, water, and Kovarian, she had assumed that he had always meant to cheat the Silence. But those were in the days when she thought the Doctor infallible, or at least inaccessibly brilliant. She knew now that while certainly brilliant, he was neither inaccessible nor infallible.

Had he really spent so many of his days knowing the exact, inescapable moment of his death?

And knowing that it would be at her hand -- he still sought her company.

She swallowed back a growing despair, the self-loathing she associated with her early childhood. The times before Leadworth, a patchy, mismatched fabric of images and half-memories. Shame.

Stop. Focus. Focus on the most important thing: was her being here, now, a help or a hindrance to the Doctor's eventual survival? River turned in place, searching for an exit, and cursing her lack of vortex manipulator.

Dread seeped under her skin. Should she even be here now? Had she already confused things beyond repair? River leaned against the tunnel wall. No. She had to believe the timeline was still on the right track.

River took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She would continue on as if nothing had changed; becoming emotional wouldn't help him. Go forward. Act normally. Be ... myself. Whoever that is. She marched the last few yards to the command centre, a determined smile on her face.

He had beaten her to their destination, a large, sleek facility with upended office chairs and several computer stations. The Doctor stood before a panoramic window. "Hullo," he twirled his sonic and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. "With the power you so thoughtfully rerouted, I've raised the blast doors. This is a lovely place, desolate and stormy, but lovely."

It was lovely, in its own, harsh way. Ambient light filtered through the window, softer in hue than the artificial lighting in the room. River moved forward and pressed a palm against the glass window. Cold seeped through to her skin.

Her research told her this was the summer season -- the weather given to rain rather than snow. Red and black clouds heaved overhead, and every so often a lightning bolt (plasma, she corrected herself) would strike the rocky surface. It reminded her of a plasma ball she'd played with as a child; the energy roiling and seething within.

"Lovely," she agreed, mesmerised by the shifting storm. "I'm glad we're not out there."

* * *

 

HANDSHAKE...  
UPLOAD COMPLETE.   
.  
.  
ENGAGE FACILITY MASTER UNIT  
FACILITY MASTER UNIT ENGAGED  
GLOBAL SECURITY RESPONSE PROTOCOLS ACTIVE  
.  
.  
THREAT LEVEL UPGRADE  
LEVEL: BET  
.  
.  
CAPABILITY ASSESSMENT...  
.  
.  
IDENTIFY TRANSPORTATION...  
.  
.  
INTERSTELLAR VEHICLE NOT FOUND  
TRANSMAT SIGNATURE NEGATIVE  
.  
.  
SCAN NEGATIVE AT 5670932  
.  
.  
DIAGNOSTIC...  
.  
.  
NO PROBLEMS FOUND  
.  
.  
STANDBY...

* * *

 

The expanse of the moon's surface spread out for hundreds of kilometres in every direction. The surface was unbelievably stormy; clouds of dark purple, red and black churned mercilessly in the atmosphere. But as they swirled, they revealed small patches of unobscured sky. Except they sky wasn't empty -- they could just make out ribbons of alternating colour: green, blue and gold. 

"The Moon of Orr," the Doctor said theatrically, "or rather, the lowest-orbiting and most interesting of the fourteen moons of Orr. And that," he indicated the looming ribbons of colour in the sky, "is Orr. A massive gas giant, sort of like your Jupiter. Except not like it, really, so never mind. Anyway... we're so close to the planet that the atmospheres of the moon and Orr itself rub off on one another -- sort of like wool socks and shag carpet -- and blamo! Plasma storms!"

He turned to River, who was laughing at him with her 'he's hot when he's clever' face on. Which encouraged him to be extra clever. "Not only does it have one of this galaxy's purest sources of bertrillium, it's also blessed with an atmosphere just this side of uninhabitable -- an excellent mining investment. And now, that's my story. What's yours, Doctor River Song?"

"Me?" She swayed past him to the computer, brushing up against him as she did so. "I'm just here for the ghost story." She punched a few keys and a holographic projection appeared, scrolling data in mid-air. "The foreman's log, one Tel Bezar. In the year before it ceased operation altogether, this mine was beset by several accidents -- small things, at first. Equipment damaged or missing, power outages. But as the mining continued, the incidents grew in severity. In that year, over twenty people died."

The holograph changed to a map. "Among these smaller problems, there were two major ones: a cave in, here," she pointed to a spot on the map, "and a lift breakdown, here. It plummeted three hundred meters into a mine shaft."

She switched back to the log. "After that, Tel Bezar was brought up on charges of negligence. He claimed he had nothing to do with it, and that the mine was haunted. The investigators never could find proof of Bezar's involvement, but the scandal was enough to shut the whole operation down."

"Love a ghost story," the Doctor said. He also found himself loving her lecturing mode. Getting back to the topic on hand, he pointed to the corporate logo hovering in the air between them. "But it wasn't just Amalgamated Mining Inc., and poor old Tel Bezar, was it? It's happened here before."

"Twice before," she confirmed. "Tel Bezar's case was actually the second of three documented attempts to mine here. Not much is known about the other two. The first was run by an outfit called Iskorax. Those miners lasted three weeks before simply walking out and demanding transport off the surface. Iskorax refused. The few miners that survived did so because they jumped onto any passing ship that would have them.

The third and final attempt was launched by StellarCon. Their facility didn't even make it past the construction stage. Five days after landing, StellarCon lost contact with their group. When they went to investigate, the low-orbit scan found nothing. No life forms, not a single trace of the advance survey team or its equipment. No one's been back here since."

"Like I said, love a ghost story," he tapped River on the nose. "But you meant to land in that ravine in the distance, and the TARDIS wouldn't let us."

“That was the StellarCon survey landing site. I thought I'd start with the most recent event first." She gazed out the window to where the ravine cut a deep slash in the distance. "Maybe the TARDIS knows something we don't."

The Doctor’s attention turned back to the massive window and he pondered the landscape. "She always does."

"So," River looked around at the dilapidated command centre, "we'll start with Tel Bezar's lot." She strode toward an abandoned console and fired it up. "Stellar mining is a hard life. Months, even years away from family and friends, with little contact with anyone except your fellow crewmates. Several different personalities meshing to from a community. You follow?"

The Doctor sat in a workstation chair and propped his boots on the non-functional control panel. "Yes."

River warmed to her subject. "Stellar miners go through rigorous testing, both physical and psychological, before they ever set foot on an asteroid. Most workers join one team, and stay with that group for the rest of their career. Not only did Tel Bezar pass his psych evals, but his position as foreman tells me he had both experience and the trust of his fellow miners. He never would have been elected foreman without those things."

"And you're firmly in Tel Bezar's corner."

"I think you know me well enough to know that I don't suffer fools. And Tel Bezar was no fool."

"But you suffer me? I'm the biggest fool there is."

"Ah, but you're an adorable fool, so there are compensations," River winked at him.

"Glad to hear it. For the record, I agree with you. About Tel Bazar. So, what's the plan. Ooh, I like that, being the one to ask what the plan is."

She found a port, cleaned it of dust and debris, and plugged her scanner into the network. The screen flickered, but no data appeared. River snorted in irritation. She unplugged it and tossed it to him. "Here. See if you can find a working line into the system. Some of these old weather satellites might be active."

The Doctor grinned and gave her a jaunty salute, then pulled out his sonic and got to work. 

* * *

... STANDING BY...  
.  
.  
ASSESSMENT COMPLETE  
SEARCH SECTOR PBY@SIGMA//8...  
.  
.  
INCONGRUOUS OBJECT LOCATED  
UPLOADING...  
.  
.  
MUSTER AVAILABLE SWARM UNITS  
.  
.  
TRANSFER UNITS AVAILABLE  
ENERGY BURN AUTHORIZED  
.  
.  
SWARM COMMAND:  
RETRIEVE OBJECT AT PBY@SIGMA//8

* * *

River watched as data flowed into her scanner, the holographic projection changing as documents flew past. "Stop," she said. The Doctor obligingly halted the download and River indicated a long string of numbers.

"These are the weather readings for the last ten years. There are two major storm systems travelling across this moon -- one from the east, the other from the north. One storm ends, the other rolls in." She highlighted a section so he could see it. "There is a twenty day calm period every three years. This is not it," she finished wryly.

"Of course not," the Doctor said. "If your goal is to get to the ravine -- and the TARDIS doesn't want to oblige -- I found some manifests listing surface vehicles. The miners, it appears, did venture out into the storms. There are even emergency bunkers dotting the surface in case of, well, emergency."

River pulled up a map of the surrounding area. "The ravine is here." She tapped a location west of them. "About 235 kilometres away. If we can get one of those ground vehicles running--" The holograph died and the lights flickered out. A moment later they were back up, accompanied by an ear-piercing siren. "What the hell was that?" Her hands danced over the console as she attempted to restart the holographic projector.

The Doctor wheeled his chair over to a nearby workstation and sonicked the controls. "Looks like a security -- no, no. It's a safety warning. That's thoughtful, isn't it? Let's see... unauthorised energy surge in a functional tunnel."

"Unauthorised? We're the only people here. Did we trip something?" River could barely hear herself think over the wailing. "Where is it coming from?"

"I don't think we're authorised, either, dear," the Doctor said. His fingers quickly worked the panel. "It doesn't seem to be an equipment failure. Maybe we aren't the only ones here. The CCTV and motion sensors are down. Let's see what we've got," he brought up a tunnel schematic onto the holographic grid.

The sirens were still wailing, and amber lights flashed madly at each workstation.

"Wait, I can't--" River slid underneath her console. After a quick search, she ripped a set of wires free. The alarms fell silent, and she sighed in relief. The lights still cast a yellow pall about the room. She turned her attention to the Doctor's schematic. One section of tunnels stood out among the rest. Energy flared briefly within them, then died. "It's near Access Hatch Two." Horror filled her.

"No. No, no no no no!" the Doctor whined, "Seriously?" He swivelled back to his station and worked for a moment, then slammed his fist on the console. "It was a transmat."

"A transmat? To where? Why the hell was it even active?"

He leaped up and crossed the room, sliding underneath another console, sonic out and ready, "We need the CCTV. Can you trace the energy readings?"

"They're fading quickly, but I think...got it!" She overlaid the coordinates onto a map, and stared at the results. "You're not going to believe this."

HIs voice was muted by the equipment between them. "Transmat artifacts indicate the terminus approximately 235 kilometres away, five hundred metres below the surface?"

"However did you guess?" She glared out the window at the ravine.

"Mur, gar..." He took the sonic out of his mouth and continued, "There had to be a reason the TARDIS didn't want to go there. I think we've met up with your ghosts, River." He stood and brushed off his trousers as a new set of images displayed.

The images cycled through numerous shots of a tunnel -- the tunnel they had landed in. The TARDIS was gone.


	4. III: Wide Open Road

ANALYSIS REQUIRED  
ROUTE RETRIEVED OBJECT TO DIAGNOSTIC SCAN AUTOLAB  
.  
.  
OBJECT ACQUIRED  
SCANNING...

 

* * *

 

All of their sensors had failed, so the Doctor stretched his senses out, searching for the link that bound him to the TARDIS. Ah, there she was. He sighed in relief. As they had suspected, she was no longer in the mining complex. Whoever had moved her had used an incredible amount of energy to do so.

The Doctor winced. "She's not here," he said, "but she is distinctly put out with me."

River disconnected her scanner from the console. "I would be, too. It looks like we are going out in that mess after all."

"We wanted an adventure, didn't we?" 

"I wouldn't have it any other way. As you mentioned, the mining company had their own fleet of vehicles for ground transport. I have no idea if any of them are in decent repair, but given our options... We have to steal a car."

"Oh, right. Larceny. Splendid!"

 

* * *

 

PRELIMINARY SCAN RESULTS.  
.  
.  
DEREFERENCE AFTER NULL CHECK  
SCAN FAILED...  
.  
.  
RESCANNING...  
.  
.  
CONTROL REACHES END OF NON-VOID FUNCTION  
OBJECT DOES NOT MATCH KNOWN OR EXTRAPOLATED TRANSPORTATION PROFILES...  
.  
.  
OBJECT EMITS UNKNOWN ENERGY PATTERNS...  
.  
.  
TRANSFER OBJECT TO ACTIVE MATERIALS AUTOLAB...  
.  
.  
ACTIVATE SALVAGE SWARM  
SWARM COMMAND: DECONSTRUCT OBJECT  
ENERGY BURN AUTHORIZED

* * *

 

The underground garage was massive, carved directly out of the rock. Various utility vehicles formed four rows, with a few parked haphazardly at different angles. The vehicles themselves were a mismatch of parts. Some had caravan shells attached, others carried parts of a large drill. A few sat completely empty. All were rusted.

"I'll leave the dirty work to you, then," River kissed the Doctor on the cheek, "I'm going shopping."

She left him staring grimly at the junkyard and headed off towards the back of the garage, where several repair bays stood and a few tools still hung from hooks on the walls. She pulled a grubby knapsack from a shelf and started tossing things in: an extra torch, emergency glow sticks, and a portable toolkit.

"Rope...rope..." River prowled the perimeter of the garage, hopping up on the hood of a broken down excavator to get a better feel for the layout of the space. She watched the Doctor wind his way through the mechanical graveyard, on a hunt of his own. From up here, she could see that the room was about 45 metres square. Four alcoves were burrowed into the rock, one on each side. River dropped to the ground and picked up her knapsack. She headed toward the closest alcove.

A faint layer of dust covered everything. River ran a finger through it as she walked, but forbore to use the Doctor's taste-testing method. The garage was eerily silent, save for the occasional thump or bang from the Doctor's corner. She narrowed her eyes, and she could almost see the miners hard at work, like after images of a camera flash. River shook her head, bemused. The ghosts vanished.

She reached the first alcove. It was a storeroom of sorts, with metal shelving bolted onto two walls and hooks lining a third. A set of coveralls hung there neatly, as if the mechanic who owned them had simply retired for the day. But when River pulled the clothing free she discovered the back was completely shredded. Frowning, she rehung the coveralls and turned her attention to the shelves. Items were stacked in haphazard rows. River picked up two energy packs the size of her fist, dropped them into the knapsack, and did the same with a box of MREs. She found a length of twine, but it, like the coveralls, had been chewed through. She tossed it aside in disgust.

The next room held supplies for surface travel: exactly what they needed. There were several lengths of sturdy rope, plus carabiners. River located a large duffel bag and coiled the climbing gear inside. She picked up two environmental suits as well, shoving them in the knapsack. River noted with approval that the suits had built-in climbing harnesses and were pressurised. She added a half-used emergency kit packed with antiseptic ointment and bandages.

She worked steadily, welcoming the manual labour. It gave her something to focus on, besides the Doctor's conundrum and the heavy burden she carried. His cheerful but distant demeanour nagged at her like an itch under the skin. She hefted the knapsack and duffel and headed toward the last room. Upon reaching it, she stopped dead.

In contrast to the others' neat but lived-in disorder, this room looked like a tornado had ripped through it. The shelves were striped with scorch marks, buckling under unseen weight. Stains from dried coolant coated the floor, spreading from a bucket on the lowest shelf. Carefully, she grabbed the bucket and upended it, noting a perfect, two-inch hole in the bottom. River replaced the bucket. At first glance, she would have said the room was hit with a low level explosive, but she couldn't think of a device that would cause the warped, melting effect she was seeing. 

River backed away slowly. Her boot heel hit something with a soft _ting!_ , and she whirled. A small, dusty bottle lay at her feet, a crack creating a spider web on the glass. She moved to kick it away, then stopped. Something glinted at her from within the glass. A wing? No. She tilted it, and the light caught the edge of a sail. It was someone's sailing ship in a bottle, the kind you'd see in nautical museums. Though this one had a tiny hyperdrive attached to the stern. It was so incongruous, this thing. So delicate. And yet, it had managed to survive a whatever blasted through this room and a century of entropy. She rubbed at the glass with her sleeve, and some of the grime wiped away, revealing miniature script across the bow. It was too tiny for her to read. The owner must have built this, cherished it, she thought. On impulse, she wrapped the bottle in a blanket and tucked it carefully into her duffel bag.

 

* * *

 

AUTOLAB RESULTS UPLOADING...  
.  
.  
37 UNITS DAMAGED  
ENTRY ACCESS FAILURE  
.  
.  
GAMMA KNIFE ENGAGED  
UNSUCCESSFUL  
.  
.  
SUSPEND OPERATION  
INITIATE LOGIC SUBROUTINE  
WAITING...  
.  
.  
THREAT ASSESSMENT...  
.  
.  
THREAT LEVEL STATUS BET  
EVALUATION...  
BYPASS GAML DELT HE  
NEW THREAT LEVEL WAU  
STANDARD PROTOCOL ENGAGED  
CONTACT HOMEWORLD...

* * *

 

Her duffel bag and knapsack full, River returned to the Doctor to survey his progress. 

There had certainly been a lot of work, but River was hard-pressed to notice any progress. He had shed his tweed jacket, which was lying haphazardly on a stool. His spindly legs were visible from underneath a car chassis. She watched as his feet did a little sideways dance as he tried to reach up into the drive train.

The surface car the Doctor had selected was the size of a small lorry, one of the more intact vehicles in the junkyard. Beneath the cab were four wheels nearly her height, and a caterpillar track for the rear driveshaft. This one had a caravan shell, so there would be some room to manoeuvre -- she approved of the Doctor's choice as they were in for a long ride.

She crouched down next to him, "That bad, hm?"

She heard a loud clank and then an expletive. "Ow!" He immediately wheeled out from under the car, on a creeper missing a caster. His hair was in disarray, and his face and hands smudged with grease. "Oh, hello River. I've been cannibalising parts, and now that you're here, you can help me put them all together."

She ran a finger along a smear of grease at his jaw. "Sounds like fun. So, what's the worst of the damage?"

He sat up and wiped his face with his handkerchief. "The worst of the damage is pretty bad. Some units are just rusted, and what have you. Others look like they were pulled apart, or shredded, which doesn't make a lot of sense, but there you are. This one here," he patted the wing of the car he had been working on, "needs a replacement computer, tires, caterpillar drive bushings, oh, and a new windshield wiper. I found everything except the wiper, if you want to take a look?"

River hopped up and wound her way through the rows of skeletal cars, getting her first good look at the remains. Most of the vehicles were a strange mesh of the advanced and the antiquated. She came across a classic land rover, half melted to the floor. A skeleton sat in the driver's side, frozen in the act of leaping from the vehicle. Its clothes were shredded. River peered into the window. The dashboard gaped open, as if something had burst through the plastic from the inside out. She gave the rover a wide berth.

At last she found car with an intact wiper, tucked against a cracked windscreen. A line bisected the glass, radiating out from a single, perfect circle in the middle. River pried the wiper loose and brought it back to their vehicle. "It's bent, but it'll do." She grabbed a screwdriver and climbed up on the hood of the cab. A moment later she had the old wiper removed and the new one in place. She checked to make sure it was securely fastened and slid down to the ground. "How are we on fuel?"

"Fuel. Yes, fuel." He scratched the back of his head with his screwdriver. "We have some options, but I found some spare bertrillium, and a handy drive system. I think we should go with that."

River smothered a laugh. The Doctor's entire demeanour screamed shy but hopeful, as if he were offering her chocolates instead of a beat up all-terrain vehicle. "Fine with me. The bertrillium should give this old thing an extra kick." She patted the side of the lorry fondly.

* * *

 

HOMEWORLD NOT RESPONDING.  
PROTECTORATE COMMAND DARK  
EVALUATION...  
.  
.  
UPGRADE THREAT LEVEL: ZEN  
ENGAGE AUTOMATED LEVEL ZEN PROTOCOL...  
.  
.  
BIOLOGICAL EVALUATION...  
.  
.  
INTRUDERS FIT BIO PROFILE OF HISTORICAL INTRUDERS DESIGNATED "human"...  
.  
.  
SWARM COMMAND:  
/UPLOAD BIO PROFILE  
/MAINTAIN OCCULT STATUS  
/DISABLE LIFE SUPPORT

* * *

 

The Doctor gripped the handholds with white-knuckle force. The momentum of the vehicle pushed him back into the seat, and the desolate, stormy terrain raced past the windows with entirely too much speed than was strictly advisable. He was unable to suppress a grimace as the car bounced across the flat plain.

He tore his gaze from the scene unfolding in the windscreen, and hazarded a glance at River. She was behind the wheel -- she wouldn't have it any other way -- with a fiery gleam in her eye and an exhilarated grin on her face. He may have wanted to protest their speed, or River's enthusiastic piloting, but he bit his tongue and simply hoped that the patched-together surface car would hold up to River's shakedown.

"Um, enjoying yourself?" he hazarded.

"Absolutely!" She glanced at the heads-up display. Statistics flickered across the top of the windshield: velocity, terrain, wind speed. River zeroed in on a section of the route she'd plotted and made a course correction. "Stop being so theatrical. It's fine!" River downshifted and the rover shot down a hill. She returned her gaze to the HUD. "I don't want to linger."

"You're right, you're right. I'm just a bit worried my repair job isn't up to the task."

"It'll hold." River swerved to avoid a boulder. They hit a flat patch, and, mindful of the gray tinge to the Doctor's features, she slowed a fraction.

"Glad you trust my work," he replied, his voice straining a higher pitch than usual.

"Oh, you can't be nervous now, can you? You've faced down scarier things than this." She shifted gears again, and the tires spun on loose gravel. She reached forward and flicked the high beams on. The lights cut through the fine silt being blown by the wind.

"Nope, not nervous," he said. "Not at all. Not worried, either. Or apprehensive. Jittery. Bothered..."

"And here I thought you'd always enjoyed my driving." She shifted gears as she spoke, and the car eased over a ridge.

"You're a very good driver," he said.

"Say that with more enthusiasm and I might believe you mean it," her tone dropped to a purr.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then shut it and blushed. "Um, yes. Quite."

She laughed. "Oh, you're darling when you blush!" She tapped a button on the dashboard, decreasing the air pressure in the tires slightly.

He mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

"You like to make me blush, don't you?"

"Sweetie, you have no idea." An image popped into her mind: the Doctor, hair tousled, skin flushed with exertion. She breathed in sharply. Keep your head in the game. Lightning cracked overhead as the truck bounced over some rocks.

The Doctor braced himself against the dashboard as the lorry shimmied. "River!"

"Your fault!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"No, but you will," she muttered.

 

* * *

 

SWARM REPORT  
.  
.  
PLACEMENT SUCCESS  
3 UNITS  
PLOT TRAJECTORY OF SURFACE VEHICLE  
ASSESS WEATHER PATTERNS  
IDENTIFY LOCATION OF GREATEST VULNERABILITY...

 

* * *

 

They bounced and shimmied across the moon's surface. At over two hundred kilometres, even with River's driving, they reached the halfway mark at sunrise, the distant star a cold, blue light over the horizon. Four hours in, the Doctor insisted on taking the driver's seat, and River gave in to his pleading. Eventually.

The Doctor settled into his four-point harness and waited for River to do the same before shifting into gear. Instead, she crawled into the back of the caravan shell, providing him a very nice image before her bum disappeared from view. He shook his head to clear it. "River?"

"Just start driving, Sweetie. I'll be fine." He heard a thump, and rustling. "What do you want to eat? It looks like we have pork ribs, jambalaya, and clam chowder. 'Comes with authentic rast pudding.' I wonder what rast is?"

He eased off the brake and slid into gear and the vehicle slowly accelerated. The behemoth was difficult to control, he had to give River credit for guiding it across the rugged landscape in a storm. The wipers beat frantically to keep up with the muddy rain.

"Rast? Yum. Although century-old dehydrated rast, maybe not so yum. Either way, I'll have my pudding first, thank you very much."

She laughed and squirmed back to the passenger seat. "Pudding first. How typical." River dropped two MREs onto the seat and slid down beside them. He heard her ripping and unzipping of the numerous food packs, but he daren't look away because keeping the vehicle on course required nearly all his considerable concentration. He called up the HUD and plotted a route through a wash, hoping for level terrain to make up speed and time.

"How is it going?" He heard the crinkle of a cellophane bag as she slid a meal in to warm. A moment later, the smell of roasted pork filled the cabin.

"Fine. Fine... I just hope this thing holds together. We've got hours to go."

"Here." He felt her move his hand off the steering wheel and close it over a warm packet. The spicy, date-like smell of rast filled his nose.

The texture was off, but the taste was passable. "Hm," he smacked his lips, "this is the best hundred-year-old rast I've ever had. You know, I've been thinking."

"That's always dangerous." He heard her tear open her own MRE.

"Yes, yes, it often is. Anyway, this sector's an interesting place. Have you heard of the Frillan Armada?"

"The Flying Dutchman of space?" she said around a mouthful of pork roast. "This isn't half bad. It's not good, mind you,” she took a sip of a neon-orange drink pack before continuing. “The fleet of warships that vanished without a trace three millennia ago?"

"Exactly. Eight hundred heavy cruisers, plus who knows how many smaller vessels, locked and loaded, ready for action, and then... poof."

"I'm guessing you have a theory." Her tone suggested she knew exactly what his theory was, but was content to hear him say it.

"Theory is a bit of a strong word. More like a hunch. Or a niggle. Yeah. But there are major spacelanes here, running through the neighboring, what is it, Dendrite system? Yeah? They've got to take the long way 'round the nebula. Has anyone else lost a fleet nearby?"

She paused for a minute, thinking and chewing. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Ships go missing all the time. It's one of the hazards of space travel."

"Hm," he said. "So. Are you going to eat your pudding?"

She chuckled and handed him the packet of pudding. "It's all yours, Sweetie."

 

* * *

 

SWARM REPORT:  
OPTIMUM VULNERABILITY REACHED  
.  
.  
ELIMINATE THREAT

* * *

 

In the end, River was too impatient -- or unsettled -- to allow the Doctor to drive for long. Once they finished their meals and settled in, she practically emanated agitated boredom, drumming her fingers and unconsciously bouncing her knee. He had serious debate with himself over which was worse: letting River's nervousness reach a boiling point, or endure his own boredom. River's nervousness won, so he relinquished the wheel.

Back in the passenger seat, he understood her point. He watched the landscape roll by, alone with his thoughts.

River, however, was happy -- her face was a picture of rapt concentration as and she gleefully dodged rocks, gullies, and the occasional puddle. He was glad to give her that one small freedom; since she was the one sitting in a jail cell most of the time.

Ah yes, there it was. The guilt. He knew he'd come around to it if he couldn't otherwise distract himself.

The afternoon sun dipped low on the horizon, and the atmosphere of Orr shone bright. River picked a winding path down a hillock, descending towards some flatlands. 

Not for the first time, the Doctor wondered what the hell he was doing. Clinging to River, avoiding his own death. What could he say, or do to make everything alright? To heal her, heal her parents.

There was nothing. The best he could hope for was to set her on a path where she could be happy. Where all his Ponds could be whole.

Impossible.

He leaned his head against the passenger window, watching the sky for the occasional glimpse of the gas giant. A peculiar light churned in the clouds. "River, do you --"

She didn't answer. The roiling clouds broke open, and River jerked the wheel to the side, jarring him. Before he found his equilibrium again, a blinding flash of light filled the window, the entire cabin. Simultaneously, a thunderclap rattled his teeth and left his ears ringing.

The car shuddered and skidded, but River shifted gears again and kept going. Stunned, it took the Doctor a moment to recognize what had just happened. Lightning, or rather, plasma. He sat with his jaw open. "River! You --"

"That was close!" she agreed.

"Yes, yes, it was," he eyed her speculatively. So close that it defied probability.

"Don't look so worried. I know what I'm doing."

"I know," he whispered. The Doctor was silent for a long minute, his mind churning away.

Once his hearts slowed to a reasonable rhythm, he made tea by heating some water in a beverage pouch. Awkward, but it was better than nothing, and gave him something to do. While it steeped, he asked, "Would you like me to drive?"

"I'm all right for a while yet," she replied.

"Just, you know, give a shout if you want to rest."

"I will."

"Okay, yes," he gave her a sidelong glance, "everything all right?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"On, no reason. None at all. I mean, not like you could tell me about it anyway, eh?"

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Right. No spoilers."

He sighed, feeling miserable, then reached over and placed his hand over hers. He patted it gently, and her shoulders relaxed a notch. He had nothing to offer her but weak tea, so he handed her a vaccum flask.

"Thank you," she said, and took a sip, then coughed. "Lovely."

"Well, I didn't have much to work with."

A deep, booming thud echoed in the cabin. A second one, that seemed more muted, shook the entire car. They veered over an embankment and the world spun wildly, then blacked out.


	5. IV: Port of Lonely Hearts

The Doctor blinked, suddenly aware of the screaming of gears, vibrating machinery, and the foreboding scent of ozone. He coughed, then reached up to unfasten his harness. "River," he said hoarsely, then with more strength, "River?"

"Here. You're alright?"

"I'm always alright," he replied with a cough. When his harness released, he slid against the door. "Oh, we're sideways. Didn't notice that. Are you okay?" He reached out to touch her arm.

"I'm just wonderful." He heard the clink of her unfastening her harness. She slid into him, all elbow and knees, plus a few lovely soft bits. "Ouch," she said, then shifted against him. Her boot found purchase on his knee, and when she hoisted herself up he suppressed his own exclamation of discomfort. She scrabbled for the driver's door handle. It didn't budge. "Damn."

The Doctor attempted to right himself, but River was in the way. He gave her bum a gentle push, easing her to the side. He whirred his sonic over the dash, and emergency lights illuminated the cab with a weak yellow glow. He hit a few buttons on the panel, trying to communicate with the onboard computer. "Any idea what we hit?"

"I didn't hit anything! It was a mechanical fault." River attempted to turn the engine. It whined and ticked uselessly.

"Helluva mechanical fault," he coughed.

"No kidding," she waved the smoke away from her face.

The Doctor swept the sonic across the dash. His frown deepened as he read the results. "We'll have to go outside to see if it's repairable."

"Do you think so?" she muttered.

He stood and climbed to the driver's side and zapped the door with the sonic. "I'll be back in a mo," he clamped the sonic between his teeth and fought with the door handle before it clicked open.

The Doctor clambered out of the vehicle and clung to the driver's side (now the top) of the surface car, which stood a good three metres in the air. The roar of the gale filled his ears. The raging winds buffeted him, switching direction every few seconds, keeping him off balance. The air was thin, and he felt his respiratory system compensate, lungs opening for better efficiency. A metallic, cloying sensation stuck in the back of his throat and fine, abrasive sand obscured his vision and scoured his exposed skin.

He looked down at River's face, just barely emerged from the car. "We need environmental suits," he shouted at her, his voice lost against the wind.

River nodded and disappeared back into the car.

The Doctor balanced precariously on the slick metallic surface, looking for a way down. He tried using the exposed elements of the truck's suspension as a ladder, but halfway down, the wind shifted again and bounced him against the chassis. He lost his grip and fell into the wet sand.

One good thing about the moon, the Doctor decided, was the subtle gravity shift. That fall would have hurt more on Earth. He spat sand out of his mouth and got to his feet. He manoeuvred to the front of the vehicle and tried to pop the bonnet. Even with the sonic, it wouldn't budge.

River's head popped up from the car, and she shook her head grimly. She dropped to the ground with a little more dignity than the Doctor had. "It's no good," she yelled, "our supplies have been blown up."

"Blown up?"

"Blown up," River confirmed, "a small, low impact charge. The suits are gone, the food, medical kit -- all gone. All we've got left is the rope."

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. "That sounds familiar."

"Yes, it does."

"And not accidental."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

With River's help, they prised open the bonnet. A cloud of black, acrid smoke was carried away by the wind, but a heavy ozone smell remained. The Doctor's fears were confirmed when he attempted to access the engine. He jerked his hands back from the superheated metal. They tried using the leftover shredded material from the suits to wrap their hands (even their gloves had been destroyed) but it was slow going. A few minutes into the process, the sky was split with a plasma bolt, and a heavy, dirty rain poured down. Though it added to their misery, the rain did aid their task. The engine block cooled faster and River wedged the spanner into a good-sized opening and they levered up the panel.

But the car let out a rapid click-click-click, audible even in the wind. They jumped back. The screaming of the gears shuddered, and then stopped. The entire system -- including emergency lights and environmental support -- was dead.

They peered into the engine core. It was a molten mess of liquefied white-hot metal, barely recognisable as an engine. The Doctor slammed the bonnet in disgust and tugged River tugged towards the nearest shelter, beneath the giant caterpillar drive at the rear of the car. Their clothes were rapidly soaking through, and their faces muddied with the sand and water. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, trying to shelter her with his body.

"I packed those supplies myself," River insisted, her voice raised against the storm, "I didn't see any bombs."

"I know," the Doctor s shouted back, "we weren't alone in the mines. Could someone had slipped something in, when we were working on the car?"

River's expression clearly stated 'no', but she said, "I suppose. And in the engine block?"

The Doctor made an expansive shrug. "Either way --"

"We're stranded." River took a shaky breath. She warily eyed the steaming hulk that had been their transport. "I already scanned for more explosives. It's safe for now, and we can't stay out here indefinitely." They carefully climbed back into the cab. The doors shut out the worst of the wind, and the rain pattered on the roof above their heads. River perched a hip on the steering wheel. "I'm open to theories."

The Doctor climbed into the caravan shell to survey the damage. It was as if a small low-impact, high-heat bomb had hit with just enough force to mangle the supplies. The critical supplies, he corrected himself. Bits of suits, tools, and smears of jambalaya splattered everywhere. Even the tea was gone. The same type of explosive could have destroyed the engine -- though it might have taken more than one charge. "It's not a theory, it's a fact." 

"Normally, I’d suspect corporate espionage," River said.

"Corporate espionage, that's a good theory."

"It doesn’t fit what happened to us, now, though. And if it was sabotage, it was indiscriminate. Three different corporations tried to claim this moon. None of them lasted more than a year. And it doesn’t explain the disappearance of the TARDIS."

The Doctor's face fell. "No, you're right. It doesn't. Unless..."

"Unless?" River raised an eyebrow.

He clapped his hands. "Too early to tell, check back with me later, I may have theory. However, we have a more pressing problem."

"Oh, you mean the fact that we're stuck in the middle of nowhere in a raging plasma storm on the surface of an uninhabitable moon?"

"No transport, no TARDIS, no jammie dodgers."

"And that last is surely the worst of the lot." River glared up at the sky. She pulled her scanner from her utility belt. "If I'm right, then...ha!" She turned the device so he could see the screen. A web of lines stretched across a map of the moon's surface, each line ended in a blue marker. "The miners weren't idiots. They set up a series of waystations, emergency bunkers, across the surface of the moon, in case they were stranded. The nearest one should be..." she squinted at the readout. "Five kilometres from here."

"Close enough to manage,” he grimaced, “but it won't be pleasant."

River made sure her utility belt was secure. "No, but the sooner we get going, the sooner we'll get there. Just think of Arliss III in the summertime."

He smiled. "The dry lake bed at dawn, with twelve moons circling in the steel blue sky." He stood and buttoned his coat, then pulled out his handkerchief. "Come here."

She raised an eyebrow at him but crawled gamely over the gear shift and the remains of the emergency kit.

He manoeuvred behind her, and tied his handkerchief around her nose and mouth, fashioning a makeshift mask. Then he stepped onto the steering column, flashed her a smile and tapped her nose with his index finger, then climbed up out of the car. 

Again, the winds nearly ripped him from his perch, but he climbed down the bumper this time and managed to not sprawl into the sand. A misty rain filled the sky, serving to plaster the sand onto his clothes, face, and hair. 

River followed him down, staggering a bit as she hit the ground. "I'm okay." Her words were muffled by the cloth over her face. She checked her scanner again and showed him the results, pointing to a rocky patch just ahead and to the east of them.

The Doctor took the duffel bag full of rope and heaved it onto his shoulder. He nodded -- speech being both difficult and uncomfortable -- and they set off in the general direction on her map. Heads down, collars pulled high, they ploughed forward in the muddy, rugged terrain. Every few minutes, he'd feel River tug on his coat, and they'd make a course correction.

The hike was miserable. The Doctor did not speak -- a damnably frustrating situation for him -- because the mud tasted foul and seemed to always find its way into his mouth. It was bad enough feeling it sneak into his ears and nose, and after a while, the wind changed and blew it directly into his face. His clothes were soaked through, grinding sand and mud into places it had no reason to be. 

River walked behind, keeping a hand on his back. The contact was reassuring, both to be certain she hadn't fallen behind, and the simple comfort of a friendly touch. Her hand must be getting cold, he thought. He stopped and grasped it, and they walked hand-in-hand, and he did his best to physically block her from the worst of the wind. 

The world narrowed to contain only the wind roaring in his ears, and the effort of every step, one after the other. With the desolation stretching around them, he felt keenly alone. The warmth of River's hand was a beacon, a lifeline. He was both ridiculously grateful for her presence, and guilty at the same time. Was this truly better than the Singing Towers? Dragging her off to some abandoned moon where they could both die out of turn? What a selfish old man he was -- dodging and ducking his own fate, stealing snatches of comfort and companionship from those he had already drained dry.

So here he was, clinging to River but pushing her away at the same time. What would it take to fulfil his part in their story? Were the timelines shifting so far from his reckoning that the Singing Towers was no longer the penultimate chapter? Or was there a new, different tragedy yet to unfold? He had been grateful she seemed able to name adventures they had not yet shared; did that mean there was still time? Or was their time narrowing prematurely, as his own destiny raced toward him? The future was closing in on him, and Lake Silencio hung like a sword of Damocles.

River squeezed his hand, and he pressed on.

* * *

Slogging over a rise, River stopped short, tugged on the Doctor's hand and pointed. Below them, through the wind and the rain, they could just make out a squat masonry building. It was dug into a ridge, and seemed on the verge of being swallowed up by the drift of sand and rock. 

The mud made their progress slow and unsteady. River slid the last few feet and squared up against the door. With some persuasion, the handle slid into place, but the mechanism did not release. When it didn't budge, she threw her weight against the door itself. It held firm.

She stepped back and rubbed her hands together briskly, trying to restore feeling to her fingers. The Doctor sonicked the door, and they both pushed the heavy, barely yielding slab of metal forward.

They squeezed through the opening and the spring-loaded door shut behind them with a bang. Darkness greeted them. River blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust, happy for the respite from the rain. The Doctor used the sonic as a torch, and in its meagre light River could just make out a set of tall cabinets along the back wall.

"Well, it's dry," she said.

The Doctor felt along the wall and found an electrical console, minus the front panel. With a few zaps of his sonic, he was able to persuade the generator to kick in. Several wall fixtures glowed with dim blue light, just enough to allow for easy navigation in the bunker. The space was small, barely enough for a table, some chairs, and and the one rickety cot. A freestanding basin stood along one wall, next to the cabinets. 

The Doctor coughed and tried to wipe his face with his sleeve, but only succeeded in smearing more mud on his face. He looked a mess -- wet, bedraggled, and barely recognizable beneath a layer of gritty mud. River doubted she looked any better. He sat heavily on a chair and stopped just short of rubbing his grimy hands on his face. 

River moved around him, trailing a hand lightly across his shoulders. She scanned the room, searching first for explosive traces, and then again for life signs. She met the Doctor's gaze and shook her head mutely. Between the two of them, they went over the space with a fine-toothed comb, looking for trip wires, listening devices, or anything else out of the ordinary. They came up empty, and River sighed in relief. "No surprises in here."

"No," the Doctor mused, "But just to be absolutely certain..." He took her scanner from her hands and sonicked it. It let out a three-tone chime: two high notes and one low. He gave it back. "It's set to the same transmat frequency we saw in the mine. The alarm will sound if anything with that frequency comes within fifty meters of this bunker."

Heedless of the mud, River kissed his cheek. "Bet they didn't teach you that at the academy."

He sniffed, "Not exactly."

River opened the cabinet doors, and the rusty squeak echoed in the small space. She pulled out a still-intact set of microfiber towels, and took them to the sink. Miraculously, the tap still worked. "This bodes well for a shower," she said. "There must be an integrated water collection system." She handed the Doctor one wet towel, and used the other to clean her face. Further searching turned up a waterlogged blanket and a dubious-looking space heater.

Losing the mask of mud seemed to put the Doctor in a better mood. He rifled through the cabinets, finding two empty water jugs, which he promptly filled. He sniffed at one, then tasted it. "Seems potable. Here you go."

She rinsed her mouth out and then drank gratefully.

River set her jug on the table and continued to root around in the cabinets. She came up with two pairs of matching grey coveralls. "Well, it's better than nothing," she murmured, "our clothes are ruined." A moment later she heard the whir of the sonic and the the heater wheezed to life. She spread the blanket next to it to dry.

While she worked, the Doctor ducked into the little alcove that must have been the water closet. A moment later, she heard a metallic groan followed by the Doctor's shout, "The shower works! Eyeeah! And it's cold." He poked his head around a cabinet and blinked at her, fringe dripping. "Ladies first?"

River smirked. Clutching the coveralls, she took the towel he held out to her as she sauntered past. "No peeking."

The shower wasn't much -- merely a showerhead with a drain set beneath it. A ratty curtain gave a modicum of privacy. She reached out to to touch it and noted that the material was waterproof.

Quickly, River stripped out of her muddy clothing and and stepped under the spray, gasping as the water hit her. Somewhere in the universe there was a shower worse than Stormcage, and she had managed to find it. This time, there was no hot water to look forward to. She gritted her teeth and quickly scrubbed herself down, rinsing her hair until the water rinsed clean on the tile.

When finished, she dried off and put on a set of coveralls. The Doctor was hunched over the space heater, a chipped mug in one hand and the sonic in the other. His water jug sat at his feet. He stared into the mug for a moment, then zapped it with the sonic. River cleared her throat.

He looked up. "Oh, hullo! Tea?" He said, offering her the mug. She took it and peered dubiously at the sludge within. "Yes, well. It will be tea. It just needs a bit of work." 

She tested the mug and was pleased to note that the water was hot, though she wouldn't have called it tea, exactly. He pulled out a chair for her and set the newly warmed and dried blanket over her shoulders. She wasn't sure how he had managed it, but was pleased to accept the comfort. Her shivering eased and she sighed in relief. He looked down at her with a wide, self-satisfied grin that went straight to her heart, and teased an answering smile from her own lips. 

He twirled in place and headed back to the shower stall, and while River sipped the anaemic tea, she heard scuffling as he shed his clothes, then the groan of the pipes, and a series of undignified yelps from the Doctor. "Blaurgh! Cold! Cold! Oooooh!"

He didn't stop yelping, in fact, during his entire shower. She smiled and sipped her tea while listening to his vocalizations. If he made him feel warmer, then more power to him. He emerged a few minutes later in the ill-fitting set of miner's coveralls, his hair dripping but miraculously clean. 

"Feel better?" she enquired.

"Loads. The sand was getting into some really awful places," he confided.

"Lucky sand," she winked. For one amusing moment, he blinked like a deer frozen in headlamps. "Now that we're clean and warm, let's assess."

"Yes. No food -- I already checked -- one blanket, and uncool coveralls. Plus awful tea."

"And no transportation," she added.

"And we're ten kilometres away from the nearest bunker?"

"Right." River worked her scanner, pulling up a surface map. "Twelve if we want to move towards the ravine, which we do." She stood and rubbed her hands. "Let's see what we've got here, shall we? I don't want to risk an open fire, so space heaters will have to do. I'll wash out the towels and add them to the blanket. We can fashion a makeshift travelling pack--"

"River."

She turned. He looked very young, and very old, suddenly. What was she doing, dragging him out here to the middle of nowhere? A small, nasty voice inside her insisted, ‘You wanted to show off.’ And that had worked so well. There was no grand adventure here, nothing to discover; merely rain and cold and mud. A great deal of mud. 

He stood and pushed a lock of damp hair from her face. "I'll help you."

She nodded, not trusting her voice. They carried the towels into the washroom and turned on the shower. She watched the mud swirl down the drain.

"This isn't exactly the adventure you were hoping for, was it?" she said.

"Where are your socks?” he smiled at her. “And you know, being with you is an adventure in itself.”

She picked up the pile of clothing she'd left by the cot and laid it next to the towels.

He rolled up his sleeves, filled the basin with the chilled water, and began washing her clothes. He glanced sidelong at her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she flashed him a smile, "just a bit skittish. The atmosphere does lend itself to ghost stories, you must admit." She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

He wrung out her socks and handed them to her. "I didn't think a plasma storm would unnerve River Song. Now, I've been known to unnerve her, I admit."

"Oh, you are endlessly unnerving. And fascinating."

"But not what's vexing you at the moment?"

"You haven't done anything particularly vexing. Yet."

"Give me time," he sighed and wrung out his own socks.

* * *

DETONATION SUCCESSFUL  
CONTACT LOST  
UNABLE TO VERIFY TERMINATION...  
.  
.  
PLOT MOVEMENT BASED ON BIO PROFILE...  
.  
.  
RADIUS IDENTIFIED  
.  
.  
LOCATE UNITS IN RADIUS  
/GETEYE  
/SCAN

* * *

The Doctor held the sonic over his ruined tweed, trying for a setting that would both repel the mud and dry it out. He was not having much success. Behind him, River moved around the room, hanging up the washed and wrung-out clothes. When she was finished, River settled herself onto the cot. A moment later he abandoned the tweed and joined her.

He settled against the wall, his gaze tracing the cracks in the ceiling above him.

"So, mouldy bunker in the middle of nowhere," River said, "at least we aren't being shot at. That's an improvement." 

His attention snapped back to his companion. "It is." Unconsciously, he shifted closer to her. "Once you get the mud off, it's just a notch or two below comfortable."

"A two-star experience," she nodded sagely, "the company, however, is excellent."

"It's amazing. I mean, you are. Amazing."

She reached out, and after a moment of hesitation, laid her hand on his, stroking his fingers.

Curiously, her touch sent little static charges up his arm. Mesmerised, he splayed his fingers, encouraging her touch.

River leaned forward slightly. She worked her fingers between his, touching the sensitive skin there.

The static charge turned into alternating waves of heat and cold. It was a heady feeling, unfamiliar... except. Well. He sucked in a breath when her fingertips lightly trailed across his palm. He could do this all day; but he slowly became aware of other things he'd like to do. His rational self warred with the impulse to kiss her; but when her thumb found his pulse point, rationality left for good.

He leaned forward, lips parted.

Their lips met softly, at once tentative and electric. River slid closer, pressing up against his side.

Oh. Oh! Though his eyes were closed, they most certainly rolled back in his head. He coiled his arms around her; she was so warm, and curvy, and there was that _hair_... and the Doctor found parts of him warming up and waking up after oh so many years of hibernation. Her lips burned against his, and he sensed that spark of electricity, that bit of danger that was all River.

She reached up to stroke the back of his neck, massaging gently.

He groaned into her mouth, his body all tied up in responses and reflexes. He opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, and he leaned forward, easing her back onto the cot. Feeling her body against his was even better, or worse, depending on your point of view. The Doctor decided that it was just... better.

She let out a soft growl and slid her hands down his sides, and as she shifted, her thigh slid between his. "Oh, River," he moaned again, and suddenly felt like he was caught in a five-alarm fire, and the only relief was in touching her skin. His hands moved of their own accord, one found her neck and caressed her throat, seeking the zipper on her coveralls. The other hand found the small of her back, lifting her up, pressing her tightly against him. 

"Doctor..." River murmured. Then, more sharply, "Doctor!" 

Her tone pulled him out of his trance. He stopped, but didn't move away, "River?"

Her hands slid to his shoulders, holding him fast, but her face was kind and her voice gentle. We can't do this right now."

"What?” He searched her face for a clue, and her meaning dawned on him. And then the embarrassment hit. “Oh, oh no. I'm sorry," he said quickly, pulling away. He slid to the far end of the cot and avoided her gaze.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," she touched his arm softly.

He looked over at her, gestured vaguely at the cot. "Well now that was... something. I shouldn't have done it, I've managed for hundreds of years without... without behaving like a randy teenager. It was rude, and -- and selfish," he bit off.

She shook her head. "Not selfish. Under other circumstances," she leered at him,"you'd be in trouble."

"Argh, spoilers," he said, waving his hands in the air. Her sultry tone sent a spark of desire through him again. He rubbed his face with his hands and added, "Now I'm just miserable."

"Now I'm the one who's sorry." It was her turn to edge away from him.

"River, you haven't done anything wrong," he turned to her, "please, don't feel badly on my account."

“Listen to us,” she chuckled dryly, "next I'll be apologising for the fact that you felt the need to apologise."

He gave a mirthless laugh. "An apologetic causal loop. It could happen."

"I'd rather it not happen to us." She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. "Mum and Dad are better at this."

"Yes, they are," he mirrored her pose. "Truthfully, everyone is better at this than me."

"Mmm. I wouldn't be so sure of that. You've had more experience than I have, after all."

"Experience at what?" he scoffed.

"Being you! Dealing with a life full of--" she groped for a word, and finally settled on "spoilers."

"Ah," he said. "I wouldn't be to sure of that -- but, spoilers," he ended miserably.

"And here we are again, back around to the beginning. Or the 'now.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “We can make 'now' work, can't we?"

"You're right. It's expressly important to appreciate the 'now.' Rule six-hundred forty-seven."

"Six-hundred forty-seven! And how many of those rules have you broken?"

The Doctor gave her a steady gaze, then looked away. "Anyway, not important. What is important is that we enjoy the here and now; storms, bunkers and all."

"You're not very subtle. But I won't ask you what you're not going to tell me."

"What am I not being subtle about? Does it count if I'm so subtle I can't figure it out myself?"

River laughed. "That's a bit circular, isn't it? Why do I feel as if I've been dropped into 'Alice in Wonderland' when I'm with you?"

"Because it's a very good analogy. Besides, you love it."

She grinned. "I do. Every second. Well, most of them, anyway."

* * *

SUBJECTS LOCATED  
STRUCTURE IN SURFACE SECTOR ALR@THORTIN//8 by ZIM*&3  
EVALUATING...  
.  
.  
UPGRADE BIO PROFILE TO "human: enhanced"  
.  
.  
4 AVAILABLE UNITS IN STURCTURE SECTOR ALR@THORTIN//8 by ZIM*&3  
.  
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/GETSWARM  
/UPLOAD BIO PROFILE  
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SWARM COMMAND:  
/MAINTAIN OCCULT STATUS  
/DISABLE LIFE SUPPORT


	6. V: Run Softly, Blue River

They stayed like that for a while, sitting on the cot, River's head against his shoulder. It was a rare moment, considering that neither of them could be still for long. River listened to the crash of thunder outside. She was reminded of the storms in Leadworth -- the kind that dropped rain in sheets for hours and left her feeling isolated and snug indoors. She preferred those storms to the endless, dull rain of Stormcage. "Mum liked to tell ghost stories at times like these -- and was terribly irritated if no one was frightened," River murmured. "I think she was eight at the time." The lights flickered overhead.

"Yes, well, your mum has always liked her stories. Were you frightened?"

"Oh, no. It was a running game -- whoever told the most frightening tale won. Dad wasn't too fond of it, as I remember."

"It sounds more like you and Amy would challenge one another to see who could frighten Rory the most?"

She laughed. "We did. Poor Dad -- he really did put up with quite a lot." The memories warmed her, pushing aside the chill of the bunker.

"Rory the Roman," he said, waxing nostalgic.

River narrowed her eyes at him. "He's more than that. And your trips down memory lane don't end so well, so stop it."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well. Right. You're right, on both counts."

The lights flickered again weakly. They heard a pop followed by a loud, persistent buzz. The lights died entirely, and they were plunged into darkness. The Doctor and River sat up abruptly. She saw the bright glow of the sonic as he scanned the room. "No explosives."

River was already running checks on her scanner. "And no transmat, either. I suppose we're lucky the lights didn't go earlier."

The Doctor pointed the sonic at the light fixture directly overhead, to no avail. He stood and gave it a good smack, followed by a second sonicking. "Must have blown a fuse with all this sudden power use. I'll see if I can fix it." With his unerring night vision, he easily found his way to an electronics panel on a wall in the galley.

River followed him and unhooked the torch from her belt. She crouched down and shined the light into the cabinet. The beam was swallowed in the darkness.

The Doctor made a sound of frustration, and then stuck his head inside and craned his neck up and down to get a better visual on the damage. She didn't like the vulnerable position that left him, and was about to caution him when he pulled back and sat on his haunches. "It's no good," he absently drummed his fingers against the wall. "Can't reset emergency power, either. Maybe it is just a blown fuse. We can fix it from the exterior power supply housing -- there's no access from here." He considered this for a moment and added, "Why don't you see if the environmental suit in the closet fits you? I'll see if I can get anything useful out of this." He gestured toward the panel. She nodded and left him to work.

River found the suit in a narrow locker. It was large and canary yellow. Rather than having a zipper or buttons, it fastened up the front with a velcro-like adhesive. Slimmer than a spacesuit, it was pressurised and had an oxygen converter keyed to human standards. River dug into the folds of fabric and found a locator beacon, long since dead. She examined the helmet, but decided to leave it off for now. Its fishbowl-like features reminded her uncomfortably of another suit, long ago (for her; for him it was the immediate future). River stepped into it and sealed herself in before searching more lockers for a second suit. A minute went by. Then another, punctuated by the bang of tools against metal.

"Ah, damn!" 

River only had a moment to consider his uncharacteristic cursing before an ominous thud rattled the bunker wall. "Doctor!" She ran to him, finding him sprawled on the floor.

Blessedly, he was animated and cranky. He sputtered and coughed as he sat up and dusted off the front of his coveralls. "Well that tears it," he said.

"What in blazes were you doing? Haven't you any sense of self-preservation?" She held out a hand to pull him up. There was another metallic groan, and thick, black smoke belched suddenly out of the air vents. It filled the room in a dark haze. River instantly dropped to her knees, trying to find clean air under the smoke.

The Doctor coughed and crawled back to the main room. As the smoke thickened, he grabbed her discarded helmet and tried to put it on her. She grabbed his arm, stopping him. "No!" River coughed. With quick hand signs she signalled, "What about you?"

"Respiratory bypass system," the Doctor said. Between the smoke and her watery eyes, River could barely make out his mouth pressed into a firm brook-no-argument expression. For a brief moment, her glare warred with his authority, but she allowed him to place the helmet on her head. He turned the glass to lock in place, then checked the seal with his sonic. She glared up at him defiantly through the whole process, and he did not break eye contact. Just as she heard the seal close, his expression softened and he placed a gentle hand on the safety glass.

"Get crawling, Timelord." Her voice sounded tinny in the helmet. She watched his backside disappear (it was a very nice backside) as he moved toward the exit.

River grabbed their duffel bag and pushed it ahead of her. She was almost out when something buzzed before her face, nearly colliding with her face panel. River squinted at it. A hummingbird? Made of metal? Impulsively, she plucked it out of the air. The thing struggled in her grip, and she hastily wrapped it in a blanket, and stuffed it into the duffel. River left the bunker.

Thankfully, the Doctor had got out, too and was huddled inside a shallow depression between two structural beams. Inside the suit, the sound and fury of the storm dimmed to an eerie hum, as if River's ears were full of cotton. Comfortably warm, the wind still buffeted her, but it did not bite. In fact, her only frame of reference for the power of the storm was watching her husband's hair blowing wildly, his frame scrunched up to protect himself from the cold wind and rain. The coveralls were less protection than his tweed had been, and the dark material clung wetly to his body. She placed herself in front of his small shelter, her body giving him a brief respite. He looked at her and nodded, a plucky smile pasted on his lips. She rolled her eyes and fiddled with the voice box at the throat of her suit. It took a few tries, but she found the setting for the speech amplifier.

She reached out and touched a strand of wet hair. "You look like a drowned rat." She glanced at the ruined bunker. "This is getting ridiculous. I can't see any way but forward, but I'm not relishing walking in this gale."

His eyes narrowed as he tried to hear her. After a moment he processed her words and nodded, then leant forward to shout into the suit's external mic. "We need to make for the bunker, the one to the east!"

She nodded and winced at his obvious misery. Suddenly, she held up her hand in a 'wait' gesture. Unzipping the duffel, she pulled out one of the two blankets she'd managed to salvage. "Wrap this around your head!" It would be soaked in an instant, she knew, but would keep the worst of the rain out of his eyes.

River unsnapped her scanner from her belt and faced east. The signal flickered wildly before locking on to the next bunker. "That way," she pointed and they began their march, leaning against the wind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Doctor, features grim, his chin tucked to his chest. He looked small and vulnerable out in the elements. River felt a rush of renewed anger. He should have taken this suit, she thought, dual respiratory system or no. An image flashed before her: the Doctor lying limp as a rag doll on a rocky outcropping, the wind snatching wisps of golden energy and whirling them away. "Bloody stubborn..." She edged closer, trying to block more wind.

She felt a sharp rapping on her helmet. She turned and saw the Doctor eyeing her. He mouthed, 'I heard that!'

River glared at him fiercely, then said, quite clearly: "Stubborn, arrogant, patronising..." The words spewed out, ending in a frustrated growl. She shouldered the duffel and held out her arm. Without another word, the Doctor linked his arms in hers and they trudged forward. She didn't doubt they'd end the twelve-kilometre hike with her dragging him along.

* * *

The hike was arduous, and by the end River was so dazed that she nearly missed their destination altogether. The scanner squealed at her and she glanced up to see concrete peeking up from a nearby rise. She picked up her pace, pulling the Doctor forward.

"We're almost there," she called over the rush of the wind. She saw the Doctor tuck his chin down and push forward into the rain. "Wait--"

The sky lit up around them and the ground shook, emitting an ear-splitting roar, almost as if it were alive. And cross. River was flung off her feet and for one dizzying moment, she flew before landing, hard, on her side. She lay there for a moment, gasping in the suit's recycled air. She tasted copper in her mouth. "Doctor?" The name came out in a wheeze. The storm howled around her and she couldn't see -- why couldn't she see?

Automatic UV protection, she thought dumbly. River climbed to her knees, hissing with pain. The helmet blacked out the world, confusing her sense of direction. She couldn't hear anything over the din of the storm.

For one horrific moment, she saw a vision of the Doctor, smashed against a rocky bluff.

No.

She strained to hear beneath the wind. Anything -- a cry, a shift of rock. River crawled forward a few paces. Her faceplate gradually lightened, turning her surroundings into a dull grey. She could see the Doctor on the ground, a darker grey lump lying face-down. She scrambled toward him.

"Doctor!"

His bare fingers curled into the damp sand, and his body shifted. Dirt rolled off of his back as he moved. "Ah, ow. Owww. Fine, I'm fine," he spat dirt from his mouth.

"You don't look fine." He looked pale and shaky. But he wasn't bleeding (or glowing), so it would have to do for now. River gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet.

His momentum nearly sent him sprawling, and River braced herself to keep them both upright. He reached out for her, and his hand found the faceplate of her helmet. "Oh, look, there you are," his hand followed the helmet down and grasped her shoulder.

River wrapped her arm around his waist. "Of course I'm here. What -- oh, my God." She stared through her lightening faceplate into his eyes. He blinked rapidly, but his gaze was unfocused. A cold hand reached inside her chest and squeezed.

"Nevermind that now," he waved his free hand, "just point me towards the bunker!"

"You're being a damn idiot!" But she did as she was told, and they limped their way toward the heavy metal doors.

"Nothing new then!"

River snorted, forgetting that he couldn't hear her through the wind and the rain and the hideous screech of the door as she heaved it open. They tumbled inside. "Stop," she commanded. He halted, and she tapped his hand. "Sonic?"

The Doctor leaned against the corridor wall and fumbled for his sonic. His hands must have been frigid and clumsy, but he grasped it and handed it to her.

She clicked it on and panned its weak light across the room. It was much like the first bunker, with a table and chairs in the centre and a cot pushed against one wall. She lead the Doctor toward a chair and pushed down on his shoulders. He sat. "Stay."

"Scanning. Explosives, energy signatures, movement, life signs." River read the readouts on her scanner first, and then the sonic. Nothing. Given recent events, that wasn't reassuring. She would have felt better if she had found a problem to address.

Wait... River enhanced the pattern and found a faint energy signature, outside of the normal spectrum. Oh. It was in the duffel. She sonicked it, testing wavelengths until it stopped. She sighed in relief.

"Oi, what's that?" The Doctor said.

"Nothing, Sweetie." At least nothing I want you to deal with at the moment. "Just scanning. We're clean."

"I don't know as that's reassuring," he said.

"Tell me about it. First things first, though." River searched for the fuse box and fiddled with the wires within. The lights sputtered to life. She made a slow circuit of the room, ducking into the shower alcove. She flicked a switch and after a tremendous groan, hot water spat from the showerhead. Satisfied, she switched it off.

The Doctor was waving his hands in front of his face. After a moment, he gave his fingers a wiggle and his hands dropped to his sides. River knelt in front of him and rubbed warmth back into his hands.

"Oh, hallo," the Doctor grinned. It was a tired, cold, muddy grin, but a grin nonetheless. He squeezed her hands. It was an obvious attempt at being reassuring so naturally River wondered what he wasn't telling her. "I think I was flash-blinded by the plasma strike. I felt -- yes I felt the ol' third eyelid go down. Give me a bit of time and I should be fine."

"You should be fine?" Which meant that there was a slim chance that his blindness was permanent. River was torn between the urge to hug him and smack him upside the head. He was shivering, and making a good sized puddle on the chair. "Good news: hot water."

"B - best news all day!"

It probably was, but that wasn't saying much. Without thinking, River reached to help him out of his coveralls. She paused in the act of pushing the coveralls down to his hips. There was absolutely no reason he couldn't do this himself. She cleared her throat. "Yes."

"Oh, good." He grasped her shoulders and stepped out of his sodden clothes and hopped from one foot to the other. "Brrr! Oh, that's still cold."

"The shower is this way." River took the Doctor's hand and led him to the washroom. She turned on the water and hovered uncertainly as he stepped under the spray. He whooped as warmth hit him. She wondered if he'd need help. River felt strangely shy; helping him undress was one thing. Bathing him...well. It was altogether too domestic. And they weren't married. This situation called to mind too many past (future?) intimate moments. "I'm right outside the alcove if you need anything."

The Doctor shook his head, sending water everywhere. "Soap? Is there any? Am I that lucky?"

"No, sorry."

"Oh, bummer," he said, before launching into an absurd string of syllables that must have been a nursery rhyme on a planet of elephants.

* * *

 

River stripped off the muddy environmental suit and tossed it in a corner. Now comfortable in her own set of coveralls, she dug into the duffel and pulled out the blanket-wrapped object she had captured. She pulled it free and studied it critically. It wasn't a bug, at least, not an organic one. The thing was about the size of a hummingbird and made out of metal, though it wasn't a metal River was familiar with. Tiny wings stuck out at its sides. They fluttered occasionally. It reminded her of a wind-up toy she'd had as a child, something the Silence had used to keep her occupied.

"What are you?" River dumped the thing into her palm and lifted one wing with her thumbnail. Beneath it, against the body, she could just make out a series of grooves. The light in the bunker was too poor for her to see more. She zapped the device with the sonic. It stopped fluttering, but otherwise did not respond. She checked her scanner again; it appeared quiescent.

She turned it over in her hand. There were several grooves in the metal, but none that looked to be a hinge. She set the sonic to a higher setting and zapped it again. No response. She'd hoped the sonic would reveal some flaw in the casing, some weakness she could exploit. "Sometimes low tech is the only way to go," she murmured, digging into her toolkit for a hammer and chisel.

The Doctor let out a yelp. "Oh! No more hot water! Argh!" She could hear him fumble around.

"Wait! Don't--" She shot out of the chair and grabbed the towels she'd set aside. "Bloody fool," she murmured. If he slipped...

He was still upright in the shower, leaning away from the spray, an offended expression on his face. She turned the water off. "Here." She wrapped him in the towel. You could have just handed it to him. River pushed that thought away.

"Now I'm all shrivelled up again," he complained. He shook the water out of his hair, but wobbled unsteadily.

"But much cleaner." River put a hand on the Doctor's elbow and led him to the cot. "I'll get some tea," she said, hazarding a glance at the bug on the table. She folded the blanket over it to cover any sensors, for what it was worth. This bunker was better stocked than the previous, and she found tea and other amenities readily enough. While the water boiled, she studied the Doctor. He was taking his blindness extremely well. River shook her head. His tendency to downplay his own injuries drove her around the bend. 

Once the tea had steeped, River sat down beside him and wrapped his hands around the mug.

He leaned over, warming his face in the steam, and sighed. He blinked a few times. "You know, I'm getting a bit better. The blurriness has shapes and shadows now. Let's hear it for the good ol' third eyelid," he took a sip of his tea.

She leaned forward and touched his chin, turning his face this way and that. "I think we should rest here for a while. And by 'we' I mean you."

The Doctor shook his head. "I heard my sonic."

River cursed his sensitive hearing. He was still ghastly pale and his arm trembled slightly. "Yes, it was, Dear. Go to sleep. I'll return your screwdriver in perfect working order, I promise."

"What were you sonicking?" the cot scraped against the floor and he stumbled while wrapping the blanket around himself. It was amusing to watch him extend his arms out to feel his way around the room while simultaneously try to keep the blankets from falling off. "I want to see."

River shot up and reached out to steady him. "Alright. Don't listen to me." She guided him to the table and place his hands on its surface while she found another chair. "Sit down before you fall down." She pressed him gently into the seat. "If I tell you what I've found, will you be good and go to bed?"

He folded his arms, wrapping the blanket more tightly around himself. "Maybe."

"Maybe," she grumbled. River dropped the device into the Doctor's hand and closed his fingers around it. She really did need his help with this. "I found this in the damaged bunker. It was flying around above the smoke. I don't know what it is, but I can tell you what it isn't: it's not mining technology. It's far more advanced than anything on this moon. My guess is that it's a long range sensor of some sort. I can't get it open to tell for certain. Something about this thing just doesn't... feel... right." She let out a frustrated sound.

The Doctor eagerly ran his fingers over the device, tracing the wings and general shape. He let out a low whistle, "You beautiful little thing, you. You ridiculously dangerous cutie-bird. Bird. Almost --" The wings fluttered and the Doctor gave a yelp. "Setting seven-six-orange-designor. We have to shut it off."

River changed the setting on the sonic and it let out a high pitched squeal. The electronic bird twitched once before folding in on itself and going dead. The outer casing, once a luminescent gold, faded to a dull bronze. River examined it with a critical eye. "There's something familiar about the workmanship. Athosian? No, too early. Rumani? perhaps... but that doesn't seem quite right, either."

"Here, let me see again," the Doctor reached out, allowing his dark fringe to cover his eyes. It was disconcerting. River fought the urge to brush it out of his face. Instead, she handed him the device, noting the strain in the set of his shoulders, the way he held himself carefully upon the chair. He needed rest. He's already pushed himself beyond the breaking point.

He cringed, the lines on his face furrowing deeply. Finally, he shook his head, "Not sure. Not sure at all. This wee beastie couldn't have done much by itself, but what if it had friends, eh?"

"If that's the case, then we're in a lot of trouble."

"We're always in trouble," he murmured. His fingers traced it again, then he handed it to her. "Very stylised for a surveillance drone, isn't it?"

"It is. It's gorgeous. It belongs in a museum. There are only a few races who put this kind of... passion... into functional things. I wonder..." She eyed him critically. "How are you -- no, never mind. you won't tell me the truth anyway."

The Doctor bristled and wrapped the blankets more tightly around himself.

"Righteous indignation looks good on you. I think it's time we headed to bed." 

"I'm perfectly fine," he said.

"Yes, you are. Most of the time. Right now you look like you've been dragged through the mud by a Skarsi slug." The Doctor was trembling slightly, and she could see the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes.

He blinked, eyes still unfocused, and was silent for a long while. "That bad, huh?"

"Yes." River rose from her chair. "How about we make a deal: you go back to bed, and I'll see if I can get this old space heater working."

He huffed, but did not argue. River frowned. His relatively easy compliance did not bode well. It meant he didn't even have the energy to spare. She came up beside him and wrapped his arm firmly around her waist, leading him to the cot. He was still cold, in spite of the blankets, and he could not hide the wobble in his knees. He sat without protest, eyes half-closed, shoulders slumped.

River switched on the heater. It gurgled to life. She grabbed a towel on the way over to him. "You're soaked." She ran the fabric over his head, massaging the water away from his scalp. "It will be warmer in moment." She tilted his face up. "Look at me." His eyes were still blank, though she fancied she could see some clarity at the edges of his irises.

To her surprise, he hummed happily. She stilled, then after a moment, resumed her ministrations. She swiped the towel across his brow, over his cheek. River found the movements strangely restful.

"I can see a bit better," he said, "less of a dark blur and more of a light blur."

"Well, that's progress, of a sort." She breathed in, smelled the scent of rain on his skin. Dangerous, Dr. Song. You're supposed to be helping him, remember?

He was quiet for a long moment, then sighed, "I despise inactivity."

Her lips twitched into a smile. "I know. You were made to be in motion -- going here, going there. It can be quite exhausting for those that lo-- care for you."

His hand reached out, blindly, found her elbow and then followed her wrist down to pat her hand gently.

She laced her fingers through his. "I'm not exactly restful, myself. Which is why I'm prone to disappearing from my cell at Stormcage on occasion. I've got to keep them on their toes, you know. "

He smiled. "I know. Are you happy, River?"

"Oh, well, it's all relative, isn't it? No one can be perfectly happy all the time."

The Doctor's face fell. "No, no. I suppose not." He squeezed her hand again.

"Didn't you promise me that you'd go to sleep?"

"Not really, no."

She snorted. "How can you be hundreds of years old and still act like a child at bedtime? You're not doing yourself any good by staying awake."

"I don't like sleeping."

She touched his cheek. "I know." And she knew why, too. River reached for her scanner. "I've downloaded quite a bit onto my scanner. Poetry, literature... 'The Ritualistic Markings of the Ohai.'" Humour laced her tone. "Would you like me to read something?"

"No, that's not necessary," he gave a laugh, "I am ridiculously tired." He rubbed his face with his hands and lay back on the cot, finally consenting to rest.

River smiled and tucked a blanket around him before settling down beside the cot and opening her journal. She paged through it restlessly, finding an unmarked page and doodling in the corners. Her meanderings expanded into a full portrait: the Doctor, long limbs relaxed in sleep. Amused, she drew a few Gallifreyan symbols above his head, finishing the drawing with a flourish.

* * *

 

SCANNING...  
.  
.  
NO AVAILABLE UNITS IN PROBABLE RANGE  
EXPAND RANGE 25%...  
.  
.  
NO AVAILABLE UNITS WITHIN RANGE  
NO UNITS CAPABLE OF SURFACE TRAVEL  
.  
.  
CONTINUE MONITORING...

* * *

The Doctor woke with a snort as a plasma bolt shuddered the foundations of the shelter. Concrete dust rained down on him and he coughed, "River?"

He heard her mumble something under her breath.

He blinked several times, testing his restored vision. Night had fallen on the moon, and the light from the window slits alternated from black to the glowing purple of the plasma bolts. Thunder rolled in the distance. He eased himself onto his side and stretched. River was sitting on the floor beside him, leaning against the cot. Her neck was angled awkwardly, and he winced as he thought how she'll feel when she woke if she stayed in that position for any length of time. He leant forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "River?"

She started awake. "What? What's happening?" She stared at him, wide-eyed, her hand reaching for the non-existent gun at her belt.

"Shh. What's happening is you'll have a nasty crick in your neck if you sleep like that." He levered himself upright and touched her arm. "Come here."

She mumbled a few more words, the only one he could decipher being 'sweetie' and climbed obligingly into bed.

The cot was narrow, and they managed to just squeeze into it. The Doctor tucked River’s blanket around her, then eased her back against his chest, spoon-fashion. It had been an impulse, and he didn't care to analyse it overmuch. Yet, lying with his arms around her and her hair tickling his nose felt as if a piece of some cosmic puzzle had just clicked into place.


	7. VI: Remember Me

The compulsion always started quietly, sliding like a snake through River's mind.

Blood ran in her dreams. Faces. Too many faces. They'd strapped a vortex manipulator to her wrist and sent her running toward him. Nursery rhymes filled her head. She'd clawed her way out of that suit like she was rising from a grave. The gun was in her hand -- how many shots would it take for him to die? Her thoughts spun wildly. I AM... I...

Her eyes snapped open and River stared up into the darkness, panting. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the dusty bunker around her.

The Doctor was asleep, snuggled against her side. It would be so easy to turn over and wrap her hands around his throat...

No! River sat up. Run. She flung herself from the cot.

_The value of Pi is: 3.14159265..._

Her gun rested on the table. Her hand reached for it...

_The indigenous population of Iliani Major are the Platocenes. Felinoid. Black fur. Fond of... of..._ She imagined tendrils of his blood running down her arm. Her knife was soaked with it.

"Damn it! Rasainberries. They aren't berries, more like small peaches. The Platocenes live in huts..."

She was shivering now. River stumbled into water closet and crouched in the farthest corner, grasping the pipes with a death grip. The metal bit into her skin. _I need to leave._ "Illani has a 600 day calendar. Major feast days are centered around..." The words kept pouring from her mouth, a whispered litany to block out the dark urges within her, the thoughts the Silence had planted in her mind like trip wires.

It would be so easy -- he's defenseless now. He trusts you.

"The planet has two significant land masses..." Thunder boomed overhead. Could she make it outside? Did she dare to let go of her anchor?

She heard a creak, and then footsteps on the concrete floor. They stopped. An intake of breath, then, "River? River are you all right?".

"Stop!" Her response was harsh, a command. She wanted to reach for him. _Leg sweep at the knees -- bring him down -- strike the back of the neck..._ "The moon of Tartarus V is... is primarily igneous rock formations, due to..." River gasped, "Due to ancient volcanic... You need to leave. Now."

The footsteps paused, but a moment later she saw the Doctor round the corner, his naked form illuminated by the occasional plasma bolt in the distance. "River," his face was painted with concern, and then, resolve. "That's not going to happen, you know."

River shook her head. He was close, now. _Heel-palm to the face -- stomp the instep..._ The instructions kept coming, like whispered poison. She let out a low moan, "Volcanoes... Tartarus V is uninhabitable, due to severe tidal --"

Lightning split the sky again. Out of the corner of her eye, River caught the glint of light on her gun. _Four feet to the table. Sight down the barrel._ She rocked back on her heels. Carefully, she relaxed her hold on the pipes. Her gaze darted to the Doctor. He hadn't moved. Still crouching down, she scuttled toward the table.

She snatched the gun and rose to her feet. She gripped the table with her free hand.

He didn't run away, didn't even move, except to hold his hands out placatingly, "River, River, it's all right. I understand, I want to help you."

"You can't help me. No one can help me." The weapon shook in her hands. River took a deep breath, "The phenomenon known as acid rain occurs on Sheldoon... argh! Get the hell out of here!" 

"No," he said with quiet confidence, "say it, say it in Gallifreyan. Conjugate the verbs, parse the tenses. What was that about Sheldoon?"

"Il ye...Il ye iis," she shook her head, shuddering.

"No, no, that's not right. Kil-ye. Kal-iis. Pay attention! 'The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain', in the seventh person, future-perfect-retroactive tense. Tell me!"

She glared at him. "Kil-ye kal-iis, ipse Naro..." She loosened her death grip on the gun. "E-en," she frowned. "E-en -- oh, to bloody hell with the seventh person twice removed, anyway!"

He giggled nervously. "Thrice removed. Nice try, though."

She leaned weakly against the table. "I feel sick. That won't work every time, you know."

"Yes, it will. And if it doesn't, I'll come up with something else that will." Tentatively, he stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.

She emptied the gun of its powerpack and placed it into his free hand. "It was so much more interesting when I came off as mysterious and daring, don't you think?"

He moved to put it in his coat pocket -- except he didn't have a coat. Instead, he tossed it aside. "Mysterious and daring? As opposed to what?"

She met his eyes squarely. "A psychopath," her lips twisted, "someone's creation." She half-turned from him in disgust.

"River," he took her by the shoulders, "River, you're your own woman. They can't own you."

"Don't touch me!" she snarled.

His hands fell back to his sides. "River?"

She took a deep breath and straightened. He didn't need this right now. It wasn't his fault he'd managed to rip open a wound. The bunker felt too small, and he was too close. 

The Doctor sucked in a ragged breath, thunderously loud in the small room. "River... River, I wish I knew what to say. More important, you tell me what I can do." She turned to see him on his knees before her. "I would do anything, _anything_ to make it right. All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. I would die, gladly, if it would free you of them. I would be at peace if I could make you whole again."

She dropped down beside him and took his hands in hers. "You can't. No one can." She smiled bitterly, "you think things would be better for me if you died? Sweetheart, every moment you're alive is my victory against the Silence."

He looked at her, his eyes pleading and haunted, and nodded. He kissed her hands. "Just... remember, River. Remember that."

She almost told him, then, about Lake Silencio, and the plan. The words were on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she leaned forward, and rested her forehead against his. "I never wanted you to see that."

He swallowed. "I'm glad I could help."

She gave a rusty laugh. "Come on. You must be getting cold," she helped him to his feet, "not that this isn't a fabulous look for you, mind." River leered at him.

He gave a yelp and theatrically covered himself with his hands. "Yes, well, sorry. But my clothes were all wet."

"Oh, I know," she grinned and sailed past him to the cot, glad for the return to their familiar rhythm. When he just stared after her with a deer in headlamps look, she let out a huff. "You're safe from my machinations tonight -- either murderous or amorous. I promise."

He picked up a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then sat beside her. She could see that he was getting a bit cold; he gave a little shiver and goosebumps were just visible on his skin. He pushed his hair -- now an unruly mop -- back from his face and drew an arm around her shoulders and gave a squeeze. "You okay?"

River leaned against him, offering warmth. "For now," she replied, her tone cautious.

"Hm. To clarify: I'm not asking if you want to kill me. I'm asking how you feel."

"Tired. As if I've been pulled inside out."

He gave her an affectionate shake. "Did you rummage earlier? Is there more tea?"

"There's a tin in the locker. I'll get it." She moved to stand, but he gently pushed her down.

"I'll do it." He stood and padded over to the kitchen, but stopped halfway there. "You know what? I'm cold. I should probably put some clothes on."

She raised an eyebrow. Now he remembers clothing? "Good idea," she said wryly.

"Right, first things first." He disappeared behind the line of drying clothes River had rescued from the first bunker. "Look! My pants are dry! Oh, and you saved my trousers and braces. River, you're amazing!" He re-emerged a few minutes later with a still-mussed coif of hair, but blessedly clothed. The braces were left hanging by his hips, and he was in stocking feet. He buttoned up his shirt but left it untucked. "And now, tea."

He fussed around the galley and managed to fire up a hotplate and boil water. River watched him add the tea, humming a bit as he did so. The scene was almost domestic, as if they weren't trapped in a concrete room in a hostile environment. River's eyelids drooped, and a small smile played about her lips. He'd always found contentment in the most mundane things. He poured the tea into two separate mugs and presented one to her with a flourish. She took an experimental sip. She could feel the liquid warming her up inside.

Sipping his own mug, he said, "Much better than our previous digs, don't you think?"

She nodded. "We have light. And clean air. Definitely an upgrade."

"And the tea's not foul, always a plus. Oh, and there's food. You haven't eaten since the car." He set the mug on the small counter and rifled through some more provisions. "Look, I can make you beans. And... and... crackers. Well, it's not toast, but it'll do." He offered her a tin of warmed beans, with crackers on the side.

"You haven't eaten either. We'll share." She scooped beans out of the tin with a cracker and popped it into her mouth.

"I can wait, love."

She froze, startled at the endearment. Though she made free with the pet names (mostly in an attempt to tease him), hearing one from the Doctor was rare, and something she associated with the post-Area 52 version. Deliberately, River relaxed, hoping her surprise hadn't been too obvious.

She offered him a cracker. "Humor me."

He took it, but waved the second offering away. Munching quietly, he settled down next to her on the cot, his long frame slouching against the wall, mug in hand. "I can get you more if you like, there are a few tins there," he offered as she finished up her small meal.

"I'm fine." Her stomach grumbled. "Well, if you wouldn't mind..."

He chuckled and levered himself upright. Several minutes later, he returned with a freshly-scrubbed tray and an array of tinned, dehydrated and otherwise bulletproof foods. He slouched against the wall again, balancing the tray on his lap. 

She mimicked his posture and ate in silence, occasionally insisting he eat a cracker or two. After a while, belly full of food, sleep caught up to her. Blinking lazily, she leaned against him and put her head on his shoulder.

River focused on the feel of his body next to hers, the steady sound of his breathing. She felt strangely weightless, as if the burden of foreknowledge had been lifted from her. In this moment, her past and their future didn't matter. It was enough to be with him, sharing the silence. She remained still even after her legs had gone to sleep and she'd developed a crick in her neck. She was afraid that if she moved, even the tiniest bit, the spell would be shattered. Far better to sit and listen to him breathe than to speak and be reminded of all the things she couldn't say.

He stirred and gave her a little shake. "River? You're exhausted, get some sleep," he said quietly.

"Mmm...you too?" She shifted to her side and curled into him.

He placed a tender kiss on the top of her head. "Yes, I think I will," he said before easing her off of his shoulder so he could stretch out lengthwise on the narrow cot. He gathered up the blankets and reached his arms out to her.

She shifted to her side and curled inward, facing him. River looped one arm about his waist, and put her head on his chest. She heard the steady thrum of his hearts beneath her ear.

* * *

Thunder crashed, and River jerked awake. She stared into the darkness as memory slowly filtered back. The storm. The Doctor, flash-blinded. Her instinctive attempt to shoot him. She flinched. A bullet dodged, in more ways than one.

River turned to the Doctor, noting his deep, even breathing. He'd sleep for hours, she knew. He despised inactivity, and could run on for days until he finally crashed. They'd been running -- slogging, really -- for over twenty-four hours. Who knows what kind of sleep deficit he had built up before he appeared in her shower. With the extra stress of hiking through rough terrain, he had to be at his limit. River grimaced. She was feeling the strain, despite the boost given by her own Gallifreyan DNA. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair.

She slid from the cot and grabbed the yellow duffel bag. When the Doctor woke, they'd need to get moving; the storms weren't letting up, and delaying any further wouldn't gain them anything but lost time. River padded toward the lockers they'd investigated earlier. Opening one, she rifled through the contents. More crackers, and a few tins of what looked like processed meat. River wrinkled her nose, but tossed the tins into the bag. Food was food, even if it was barely identifiable. River grinned in triumph when she found a second length of rope. Her grin was even wider when she found an intact environmental suit.

She took these items and the duffel bag with her and settled next to the cot. The Doctor still slept, flat on his back and long limbs splayed out awkwardly. She fought the urge to tickle the bend in his knee. Instead, she sorted through their inventory, grouping items together and repacking them neatly. Her fingertips brushed glass at the very bottom of the bag.

River pulled the bottle free. Inside, the model ship gleamed, sails upswept like the wings of a swan. Again, she thought of abandoning the thing, but her throat tightened at the thought. Instead, she set it gently on the floor beside her and took out her journal. Its blue cover seemed almost black in the darkness. She opened it to the first blank page. Almost without thought, the ship took shape on the paper, dark ink tracing bow and stern. River recorded every last detail -- from the slightly bent mast to the mini propulsion affixed to the hull. That had not been a part of the original design, she wagered. River's lips quirked upward in amusement.

Time ticked by, and light danced across the high windows of the bunker as clouds and lightning churned outside. The Doctor stirred and fidgeted beneath his mound of blankets. With a sniff, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the cot. His hair was in comic disarray, and his eyes half-lidded. "Mmmph."

River shut her journal with a snap. "Good morning to you, too. Or afternoon. Sleep well?" She fought the urge to run her fingers through his hair again.

He blinked, and sniffed again. "Morning. River. I slept too long."

She laughed. "Is that possible?"

"I don't need sleep."

"Says the man who just slept for twelve hours. On the positive side, no creepy crawlies invaded us in the night, and I've got breakfast going. Tinned meat and weak tea." She gestured toward the hot plate.

"Tea," the Doctor parroted, and his eyes focused at last. He ran his hands through his hair, merely shifting the tangle, not smoothing it. He took the cup she offered and sipped greedily. He sniffed at the meat tin, frowned, then picked up the beans and ratcheted it open.

"I know." She winced in sympathy at the look of distaste on his face. "Next time, I'll pick a desolate moon with a Five Star Restaurant on it."

"That's a workable plan," he agreed, "are there any crackers?"

"A few," she handed him a stack, "I went through the lockers while you were asleep. It's not a bad haul, considering how long this bunker's been here."

"Anything good?" He scooped beans out of the tin with the crackers.

She ran down her list, carefully omitting the model ship. It wasn't exactly useful, and River felt faintly embarrassed by her sentimentality. "Better than what I'd hoped for," she mused, "but less than what we need, especially if our little bug has friends."

He set his empty tea mug on the table, and met her gaze with alert, piercing eyes. "I want to see -- actually see -- that miniature robot you snagged."

She raised an eyebrow, but fetched the empty bean tin she had shoved it into. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm not sure," he gently dumped the robot on the table, "but I'll know it when I see it." 

He worked the sonic, checking the readouts periodically. With exquisite care, he opened one wing and spread it for River's benefit. He looked up at her gravely. "It has wings."

"Well, yes. Things that hover in mid-air usually do."

He tsked, "It has a nanograv inhibitor. The wings aren't for flying -- they're purely decorative."

She leaned forward and peered at a set of markings on the underside of the unfurled wing. "So whoever built this has an artistic flair. And a sense of humor." She extended the drone's right wing.

"Your professional opinion, Dr Song?"

"There's something under this wing, just against the body...I can't. Wait." She sat up and fumbled in the duffel bag for her scanner. She lifted the wing again, and scanned the area. A moment later, a zoomed picture popped up on the screen -- a raised square scratched into the metal. "It almost looks like Varian maker's mark," she turned the screen so he could see the results, "but it's not one currently on file." She shook her head. "I don't know. The rest of the design fits -- it's highly ornate, for a piece of machinery. But the Varians favored flowing patterns -- waves, circles. This is too geometric for their tastes." She leaned back and rubbed her temples. "The inside of this thing is a mess -- rewired circuits and bits of copper plating. If I saw this on the interstellar market, I'd assume someone was trying to pull a fast one."

"Varian, then, you think?"

"Pieces of it look authentic," she said cautiously.

He absently stroked the wing. "But a bit cobbled together. The Varians were here, in this sector."

"Yes. They held this area briefly during their conflict with the Skarsacs. But that was millenia ago. This drone shouldn't be active." River turned it over. "See here? That bit of plating. That's newer. It's not original, but the seams in the metal match up perfectly. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to repair this fellow."

"So what we have here, so to speak, is living, breathing Varian technology, whether original or copied. Or passed on... hm. Notice how specialized this nanobot is? It's a miniature sky crane, nothing more or less. The Varians were creative in their use of nanoswarms. It would explain a lot, wouldn't it?"

"It would." River scrutinized the bot again. "The Varian swarms were built to make independent decisions---within certain parameters, of course. This drone seems be caught up in a feedback loop, forced to act on old orders. But that implies someone is controlling them; here, now. This rock is filled with Bertrillium. A valuable piece of property if you could hold onto it long enough. The problem is, I don't see any signs of recent habitation. There should be something. Some sort of installation. Another mine or even a lean-to." She let out a frustrated breath. "Nothing I've seen is less than a century old." She eyed him speculatively. "Of course, that doesn't preclude cultures with longer life spans."

"But why drive off competitors, but never claim your prize?"

"Exactly! Whoever is doing this isn't interested in the moon at all. They don't care about the Bertrillium. But they don't want anyone else to have it, either. Is there something else about this moon, or this sector of space? Something worth all this effort?"

"I'm sure whatever is happening makes perfect sense to whomever is behind it. It's just not clear to me," the Doctor mused.

"Me, neither. Right now, I'm more disturbed by the fact that they were able steal the TARDIS, scuttle our land car, and drive us out of a bunker. Are there any in here? And how would we find them -- the don't exactly response to standard scans."

The Doctor held out his hand for her scanner, and she gave it to him. Using it and the sonic, he panned the small room. "Now that he know what to look for -- nothing. Just this fellow. Which makes sense, really, as the nanobots couldn't handle the nasty weather. It would have to have either come with us, or been lurking for a century.

River got to her feet. She noted the sparkle in the Doctor's eyes. His bare toes tapped against the concrete. She noticed his hand, still clutched around the nanobot. He looked like a child with a new toy. "What do you think we should do with our friend?"

"What, Doctor Song, you don't want to sell it on the antiquities market?"

"I," River replied loftily, "am dedicated to knowledge and preserving the past." She winked at him. "It wouldn't be worth much on the circuit -- not cobbled together as it is. I know a few museums which might be interested, though."

The Doctor laughed. "I was considering ditching it outside where it can't spy on us anymore."

"Probably a wise choice." She velcroed the duffel bag shut and sauntered over to his side of the table. "I know how you can make it up to me, though."

"Anything, you like, my dear."

"Oooh. Tempting. Unfortunately, we don't have the time." As if to underscore her point, thunder crashed outside.

"Right then," he stood and stretched, then tapped her nose playfully, "we know what comes next, don't we?"

"More slogging," she said ruefully.

"Precisely!" he said so cheerfully she wanted to slap him. "It'll be fun!"

* * *

Inside the suit, the air had a metallic tang. Saving the oxygen supply for when it might truly be needed, the Doctor switched the respiratory system to filter the ambient air, which was comfortable enough if not pleasant. Ahead of him, River plodded along at a good speed, periodically checking the readings on her scanner.

He switched on the comm link. "This is much more fun in a suit, isn't it?"

"For which definition of 'fun'?"

"Just being optimistic. And grateful there isn't sand in my hair."

"It is very lovely hair."

"I know!"

"You're a terrible peacock." He could hear her huff of amusement through the mic, and pictured her fond smile in his mind's eye.

"I know that too," he laughed. Bantering with River was so much fun, he had to suppress the urge to comment on her hair. "But yes, ahem. Focus." A sandy hillock loomed to their left. "Shall we ditch our friend on the other side of that hill?"

"Sounds good. I hate to see it go. From a particularly academic standpoint."

"I don't doubt we'll run into more of them, where we're going," he said as he trotted up the hill. Stopping just below the crown, he set up a perfect cricket bowl and lobbed the nanobot up and over the far side of the hill. "Done and dusted," he said when he rejoined her.

They fell into a comfortable pace beside one another, and the landscape moved steadily by. River asked, "Have you ever seen the Varian swarms in action, Doctor?"

"Yes, I have. Amazing things. I crash landed once, on a barren asteroid. We had been on a Bactrian tanker, there was a distress call, and a hijacking, the captain was possessed by, well, yes. Things happened, as they often do. Point being, we were in the Varian Protectorate, and as soon as the crash was detected, they shot off an automated rescue pod chock full of those wee beasties. Hundreds of them, each specialized to perform a single function. As a swarm, they could assess and react faster than a single unit. Within a few minutes, they had performed search and rescue and built emergency shelters. By the time the rescue cutter arrived, we were sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows, comfy as can be."

"Impressive. Form and function, unparalleled in known history. I would like to have seen it. Maybe I will."

The Doctor considered this, and, unbidden, and image jolted him: River in the Library, electronic leads attached to her pretty face...

In an environmental suit, you can't wipe away tears. 

The Doctor cleared his throat, pushed aside the image, and tried to supplant it with all the days that River would have before the end came. But how many would that be? Was he altering the timeline now? Everything seemed so much in flux. But River's death was a fixed point, he knew that now; and fixed points have a way of correcting themselves.

River had pulled ahead of him. Now she stopped, and turned. "Everything all right?"

"What, hm? Oh, peachy. Yes. Um, Varians."

"Yes, Varians. Doctor, honestly, you've been distracted ever since we landed in the mines. Is there something I should know?"

What a fool he was. His usually nimble brain scrambled for an excuse, but all he could come up with was: "Um, spoilers?" and he winced even as he said it.

She waited for him to catch up, her hand on her hip and her posture radiating irritation. "I don't want to know. Right now, we need to focus on our current problem. This moon is on the edge of what was Varian space. If I recall my history correctly, this sector changed hands quite frequently in the Varian-Skarsac War."

"Yes, yes it would have done. This sector was something of the high-water mark of the Varian Protectorate. Like Hadrian's wall." They picked up the pace again, walking together. He couldn't read her expression behind the tinted face panel, but the set of her shoulders and the briskness of her stride deflated him.

"This moon may have been valuable then, but it doesn't explain what's happening now. We know several mining operations have been sabotaged. We know that someone -- or several people -- have been using old Varian technology to do it. What we don't have is motive." She shook her head, "Maybe this place really is the Bermuda Triangle of the galaxy."

The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he walked on. "Clever and cool they may be, but those nanobots couldn't have taken down the Frillan Armada."

"The results are the same, only the scale is different." She kicked a rock and it skittered ahead of her. "Whatever is going on, the answer is in that ravine."

"And so is the TARDIS." They crested over an arching ridge, nearly impervious to the buffeting winds and rain in their protective gear. But the suits weren't as fun as he first thought, now that he couldn't properly communicate with River. On impulse -- he seemed to be doing a lot of impulsive things recently -- he reached out for her hand.

She laced her fingers through his and squeezed his hand, and they walked on, across the rugged moon and beneath the surging storms.


	8. VII: Ring of Fire

The Doctor pulled off his helmet, and the roar of the wind rang in his ears. They had found shelter in a kopje that rose starkly from the surrounding flatlands. Inside, the wind whipped around the rocks, but was tempered as it passed through the maze-like outcroppings. Beside him, he was rewarded with a view of River shaking her curls free from her own helmet. She caught his eye and grinned at him, then reached into her duffel and pulled out two handkerchiefs.

He greedily took one and wiped his face. "That's much better," he called to her, raising his voice against the howling of the wind around them. 

She tossed him a foil packet of jerky before settling against a heavy column of rock and opening her own meal. She gestured for him to come sit beside her. "This moon truly is hideous," she said lightly.

He leaned against the rock and eased himself down to his haunches, feeling the gritty texture even through the heavy suit. Reading the faded labeling, the Doctor couldn't identify the ingredients of the jerky, so he handed it back to her. "Um, thanks. Maybe later." He slapped his gloves together, kicking up a fine powder that was carried away by the wind. "It's not hospitable, no. Though some enterprising soul might make a resort out of it someday."

"A resort, in this weather?" A plasma bolt arced across the sky. "Sometimes, I think we should leave well enough alone."

"Not a bikini-wearing, fruity-drink resort, more of a... hang on, did you just suggest we should have left it well enough alone?"

She laughed. "I meant 'we' in the general sense. Sentient beings. So much fuss over a rock."

The Doctor ran his fingers through the coarse sand, imagining the bertrillium locked inside the grains. The little trails in the sand exposed a flat, smooth rock, just the size to fit into his palm. His fist closed around it, and he imagined skipping it across a lake. If there were a lake here. Another thought struck him, and he glanced sideways at River, to see if she noticed what he was doing. She was chewing on a piece of jerky, and if her expression was anything to go by, he was right in avoiding it.

With a flick of his wrist, he threw the rock at River.

Her free hand snapped out and caught the rock just inches from her face. "There are better ways of getting my attention, Doctor."

Her rapid movement sent a shiver up his spine. He struggled to maintain a conversational tone. "How... did you do that?"

River stared at the rock in her hand, as if seeing it for the first time. She shrugged. "I've always had good hand-eye coordination. And the training..." She shifted uneasily, then tossed the rock back to him. "You should see me play cricket."

He licked his lips. "You didn't see that coming."

"I must have."

"You didn't. I was watching." Sensing her discomfort, he laid his gloved hand on hers.

"Your point?" The words dropped like lead between them.

Her flat tone crushed his euphoria. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should have realized her Gallifreyan abilities were an unpleasant reminder of her shattered childhood. He took a deep breath to center himself. "River, quick reflexes are for reacting to something that has already happened. You sensed I was going to throw that rock before I did."

"Again, your point?"

"River, you're the child of the TARDIS. It's called -- well, the best translation is 'timesense'. You used it instinctively."

"And what do you suggest I do with this little slice of precognitive ability? Cheat at cards?"

A lead weight of helplessness and shame settled in his gut. "Sorry," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it." He turned away, hiding his face from her view, and stood abruptly.

"Wait. I'm not very good at this. I don't know _what_ I am. I don't know which parts are me, and which were built by... them." 

He turned toward her again; she had stood, and was reaching out to him. He grasped her outstretched hand. "It's a gift from the TARDIS. It belongs to you."

Her hand tightened in his. "It's a form of precognition then. What else can it -- can I -- do?"

"You can sense timelines, with practice. Read them, test them. Only a... only a Time Lord can do that."

She tugged him back down to the ground, but didn't relinquish his hand. "And what made you think I could do that? What would you have done if the rock had hit me?"

He winced as he sat beside her. "Apologize profusely?"

Her laugh warmed him. "I would have found a way for you to make up for it. How did you know, really?"

"I've suspected for a while. Your driving, for one -- you didn't just avoid that plasma strike -- you anticipated it. How did you capture our friend the nanobot?"

"I hadn't given it much thought. The bot was just there in front of me. It looked different than anything else in the room. It seemed out of place, somehow."

"Yes -- and physically, how did you physically capture it?"

"It was moving fast. I reached up, and plucked it out of the air. No -- I was moving. Gathering supplies. I looked up, and it was hovering in front of my face."

He spoke a Gallifreyan word, then, "Yes, timesense."

"There have been instances," she continued thoughtfully, "moments where I'll catch something out of the corner of my eye -- a flash of movement or color. Or the opposite, like with the nanobot. Motion suspended. You know who raised me. Sometimes the eyes can play tricks on you." This last came out hard and bitter.

"Your timesense belongs to you, River. Don't give them credit for anything."

"Is there a way to make the images sharper, more distinct?"

"It's not quite... here." He took the same stone, which she had let fall onto the ground, and put it in her hand. "Close your eyes, and concentrate on this stone. Where did it come from? How did it come to be here?"

Her hand closed over the rock. "It's been here a long time. Before it was here, it was flying... cold ... a meteor?" She opened her eyes.

"Yes, yes! And what else? Do you see me, throwing it?"

"Yes. You weren't being gentle, were you?" Her lips quirked up in a smile.

He cleared his throat. "Well, not really. But I had faith. Now, you've seen past and present. Look to the future of that rock, can you see it?"

"Yes. No." Her brow furrowed. "There are many rocks. Some become dust. Others are flung back into space. There are too many possibilities, folding on top of each other, branching out."

He closed his hands over hers. "One stands out more clearly than the others."

"A window... lightning. Not here." River opened her eyes. "That's it. The image was still moving."

"Exactly." he squeezed her hand again, felt a smile beam across his own face. "Exactly. You've got it, River. There's more to learn, but you can actually see it!"

She grinned madly back at him. "Why didn't you try this with our nanobot? We could have discovered who made it."

"Who's to say I didn't?"

"Did you? It must not have been very exciting if you didn't share the results."

He shook his head. "Rocks are fairly simple things, their histories straight-forward. But a construct like the nanobot? I could only see contradictory images, an indiscernible pattern. And that's saying something, as I am a Time Lord of the First Rank. Or at least I was once I bested Morbius. Battlefield promotion and all. Anyway -- right. Complex things have complex time webs."

"Can you teach me?" She squeezed his hands, still joined with hers over the rock.

Joy bubbled up inside him. Perhaps there was still something he needed to do, before his time came. Joy, and hope. He burst into a big grin and grabbed River, lifting her into a massive hug. "Of course! That's why I brought it up."

His enthusiasm pulled an answering grin from her lips. Her fingers slid over his cheek before she dropped her hand to his shoulder.

He eased her feet back onto the ground, and loosened his grip. Shame, really, as grabbing hold of River was immensely enjoyable. The wind had not stopped blowing, and a light spackling of dust drew across her brow. He took the handkerchief she had given him earlier and wiped her face. "For now, just listen to your timesense. Find it, and practice using it."

She nodded and turned to gaze out at the maelstrom of plasma and wind. "I will."

* * *

The Doctor crawled on his belly and peered over the precipice. The drop was not exactly a sheer one, but that was the only thing to recommend it. The walls of the canyon bristled with knife-like outcroppings of rock, exposed to the winds that buffeted him even as he lay on the ground in a protective suit.

A sickening feeling settled in his stomach. In his mind's eye, he imagined falling: speeding to terminal velocity, spinning helplessly, and that last, horrible crunch when your body breaks upon the ground. Bile rose in his throat, and he had to scoot backwards and rest his helmeted head on the dirt to gather his wits.

River's voice crackled in his com unit, "How much rope do we need?" She was behind him on the ridge, looking for anchor points for their climb down.

He swallowed and eased to the edge again, then pointed his sonic in the direction of the canyon floor. It buzzed, and he checked the reading. "437 meters, give or take."

River cursed, and even though he couldn't see her, he felt her staring at his back, no doubt a hand on a defiantly jutting hip. "Based on the writing on the tin, these strands should be good enough, but after a hundred years who knows if they've been cut -- wait, Doctor, what are you doing? Now is not the time to tell me you're afraid of heights!"

"I'm not afraid of heights," he answered testily, "I don't like heights. Huge difference. I can take a plunge if I need to." Again, his mind's eye conjured up a disturbing image: diving head-first into the gravity well on the Library, carrying River's remains to the computer core.

He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, forcing the image (and the memory) back into its box. "I fell to my death once; not something you forget."

"I'm not looking for a repeat performance, believe me," River's voice crackled in his ear. He sighed and slid back from the edge. She was busy fixing the anchors, and had already looped one end of her rope around a craggy outcropping. The constant wind had smoothed out the edges of the stone. Walking backwards, she untangled the rope and eyed the distance to the bottom of the ravine.

The Doctor set about finding good back-up anchors, and it turned out they were hard to find. At last he settled on some nearby boulders. The winds gusted, leaving him teetering on his feet. Tying a favorite knot, he said, "Safety first, even if we are abseiling down a 400-plus metre ravine in gale force winds."

"Oh, but the wind makes it fun!" He couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "Check your suit harness -- yes, I know you did," she continued, forestalling his protests. "Do it again." Her own hands moved over the built in climbing gear, tightening the straps around her waist and groin.

"It's as good as it can be," he replied. The environmental suits had full harnesses built-in, though he would have preferred something a bit more stout (and better-fitting). He dug some carabiners out of her duffel, and checked them for strength with the sonic. He tossed one over the edge, but was pleased enough with six others. He handed three to River, and clamped himself in. He pulled on the line, testing it. The harness and clamps were sufficiently secure, though devilishly uncomfortable.

He stepped around to River and clipped her in, then tugged at her line. "What do you think?"

She gave him a thumbs up sign. "I'm good to go."

"Better than me," he grumbled as he shifted the harness around, trying to find the position of least discomfort.

"Aww. I'll make it up to you. Later." River grasped her ropes firmly and took those first, dizzying steps backward over the cliff. Through her visor, he could see her give him one flirtatious wink, though her expression was one of intense concentration. One, two, three steps later, she disappeared over the edge.

The Doctor slung the duffel over his shoulder and followed her, stepping backwards over the cliff. His right hand held fast to the rope to brake his descent, and his left supported his body weight. The initial descent wasn't as bad as he'd feared; the cliff overhang provided some shelter from the winds and the footing was solid as he walked. Gaining confidence, he hopped backwards, clearing the wall and abseiling more rapidly. Below him, River was doing the same.

"Don't get too far ahead," he admonished.

"I won't." She launched herself off a spur of granite, arcing wide. Wind buffeted her mid-leap and she cursed. A moment later, he heard her voice in his ear: "Watch out for the crosswinds!"

"You watch out for the crosswinds!" he shot back. He eased over a nasty, sharp, step of rock, and was about to hop off the edge when a burst of wind caught him. It launched him away from the wall, and his right hand lost grip for a dizzying moment. He dangled, almost inverted, but the harness saved him. The wind burst again and he fell into a flat spin, his left hand desperately trying for purchase to slow him. Another gust slammed him against the rockface, and he clung there, hands and feet gripping the rock. He emitted a caustic Gallifreyan curse.

"You all right?"

His shoulder was hot with pain where he struck the wall, and the harness had dug into all kinds of sensitive areas. He gingerly loosed his right hand to find the rope again. He sighed when he grasped it, and leaned back to continue the -- hopefully under control -- climb. He cleared his throat and said brightly, "Yes, yes. Fine. A-okay."

Back on his feet, he craned his neck to find River. The helmet cut peripheral vision, so he had to practically stand sideways to see her. She was there, beneath him, feeling her way along a tiny ledge.

A burst of light shot across the ravine; then another, and then an entire fusilade. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and debris shot into the air all around them. The ledge disappeared from under River's feet and she slid down the rockface several meters before gaining purchase again. "What the--" Her com cut out and he lost sight of her in the dust and smoke.

* * *

ALERT!  
PERIMETER BREACH  
DEFENSES ENGAGED  
.  
.  
EVALUATE THREAT  
DIRECT ASSAULT ON FACILITY  
THREAT LEVEL BYPASS HET TET YOD KAF LAMBA  
THREAT LEVEL: MEM  
OCCULT OPERATIONS DISENGAGED  
.  
.  
SECURITY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
ENERGY BURN AUTHORIZED  
DIRECT TERMINATION OF INTRUDERS AUTHORIZED

* * *

"River! Talk to me!" the Doctor shouted. Kicking off again, he descended rapidly, but as soon as his feet hit the wall, the heavens opened up above him. "Descend! Descend!" The impossibly bright flashes of energy weapons triggered the helmet's automatic tinting feature, and his visor panels dimmed, even as he strained to see what was going on. Instinctively, he closed his eyes, for a fraction of a second, and reached out his senses to assess the situation. Weaponized plasma bursts, six installations, strafing the cliff. Defense system. Automated? Probably.

River, beneath him, in trouble.

Rocks tumbled down on him as the cliff face above was shattered. He hopped from one outcropping to another, zig-zagging as quickly as he could, trying to vary his descent to throw off the aim. Beyond trusting in luck, it was the only thing he could do. "River!"

"I'm right below you -- maybe fifty metres. I'm pinned down!" He heard a muffled explosion, then the harsh sound of her breathing over the microphone. "It's strafing fire, cross-stitch patterns."

The Doctor flattened himself against the cliff as bursts of deadly light engulfed him, blasting holes and destroying the landscape around him. "Dropping now. I'm coming!"

"River!" Helpless, the Doctor could do nothing but keep moving. Another gust of wind roared through the canyon, sending him spinning just as the pulse bursts vaporized the rocks he had been standing on. Even finding cover wouldn't help -- the rocks just splintered as they were hit. Legs flailing, he touched the wall again and listened. He could hear her breathing harshly through the com line. Just then, another volley struck the rocks above him and he craned his neck and saw a rope tumble down.

"Bloody hell, River, say something!"

"That was a bit close, even for me." she let out a shaky laugh.

"Your rope's gone! Can you see me?"

"Yes. I'm below you and just to your left. There's a crack in the rock -- do you see it?"

He couldn't see it, so he lied. "Yes, hold on!" He looked to his left and found a crevasse, and hoping it was hers, moved horizontally to it and followed it down. Pebbles rained down on him, followed by larger rocks bouncing off his helmet and shoulders. He abseiled down the crevasse until he found River, wedged in and hanging on for dear life.

Relief flooded through him, only to be replaced by alarm as another strafing run edged closer.

"Just grab on! No time to clip in. Hold tight!"

He felt River's arms and legs wrap around him. "I'm good!"

He strained under her weight -- borne by his harness, forearms and hands on the rope. His nostrils flared with the effort, and he concentrated with all of his Gallifreyan force of will to do one thing: get to the canyon floor before his rope was taken out.

He hopped out of the crevasse as another volley tore across the rockface. Above them, River's hiding spot was filled by a landslide. Two hops -- he loosened his right hand to slide them down -- three -- his knees creaked as his feet slammed against a sheer cliff wall. On the fourth hop, a strafing run further up the cliff cut the rope.

They slid, River still clinging to him with a vice-like grip, both her arms and legs, trusting his ability to halt their fall. His gloved fingers and boots scrambled for purchase, but barely made a difference. Then, the safety rope kicked in, jolting them both as it arrested their fall. River's grip slipped, but she squeezed the breath out of him and held on. The harness dug into his groin and he howled in pain, momentarily paralyzed.

Focusing all his concentration, all of his will, into a single point, the Doctor ground his teeth and found the strength to grip the rope again. Three more hops, and the angle of fire from the guns reduced their immediate exposure, though the bursts still scarred the ravine wall, dumping landslides onto their heads and shoulders, and threatening their lifeline.

The floor of the ravine came into focus, promising a respite. With one last push-off, the Doctor sent them into mid-air.

Only to find the end of the rope pass through his right hand, and then, freefall.

* * *

INTRUDERS IDENTIFIED  
"human: enhanced" COUNT: 2  
PROFILE MATCHES PREVIOUS SUBJECTS  
SCANNING...  
EVALUATE EFFECTIVENESS OF PERIMETER DEFENSES...  
.  
.  
MOTION DETECTED PERIMETER -1 SECTOR QQT@FIMPAR//*7 by ZIM*&3  
EVALUATE THREAT LEVEL  
THREAT LEVEL: NIN  
.  
.  
BIO PROFILE UPDATED  
SUBJECTS DESIGNATED "human type: superior"  
.  
.  
SECURITY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
HALT ENERGY BURN  
PERIMETER -1 DEFENSES ENGAGED

* * *

They plunged, spinning out of control, and hit a sandy mound with bone-jarring force. Then they tumbled down the slope, bashing into one another and the rocks that were still falling from above. When the canyon floor finally flattened out, the Doctor landed on top of River, knocking the breath from her lungs. She lay, stunned, beneath him. When she could finally inhale again, she coughed. "Not -- the most graceful landing. Are you all right?"

"River, don't move." the Doctor's voice was flat, and sent a shiver down her spine.

"I hardly think this is the time--"

"We're on a mine."

"We're what?" She tensed, and then forced herself to relax. "We aren't dead, so they aren't set to go off on contact."

"Pressure release," he said, "which makes sense, considering the natural rockfall." Through the comlink, she heard his long, slow intake of breath. "Okay, I'm going to reach for my sonic." His weight shifted, bending her knee awkwardly, making her left leg go numb. In spite of this, she concentrated on maintaining balance so as not to jar the mine. Slowly, he levered his arm in an arc, bringing the sonic to bear. He checked the readings and switched it on.

She felt more than heard the answering 'click' beneath her bum.

The Doctor sonicked it again. "I think that's it," he breathed.

"You think that's it?"

Again, the sonic buzzed. With a flick of his wrist, he switched to another frequency. She may have joked with him, but he was being careful. More careful than if it were his bum on the mine. She rolled her eyes at the thought.

"That's it," he finally pronounced.

"That's one down," River took a deep breath, “but funny thing about mines, they always travel in packs. How many more to go?" She didn't dare move; although the mine beneath them was deactivated, she had no way of knowing how close the others were.

"Got it, scanning," He moved the sonic in an arc, then with a grunt, sat back on his haunches to finish the scan. "We're clear, back to the rock wall. Minefields that way.” He pointed out towards the centre of the canyon floor. He looked around above them. "The guns don't seem to engage here, though at this point I don't want to take anything for granted."

River sat up, unable to suppress the wince and corresponding rush of relief as she safely cleared the mine that had been beneath her. She crouched down and scuttled toward a stack of boulders. It was a small refuge, the remnants of a landslide. It was enough.

The Doctor, however, got up slowly, and his gait was stiff as he shuffled to join her. He leaned against a boulder and slowly eased himself onto his hands and knees.

She peered cautiously at the canyon floor. No movement. She rose to her feet and stepped back until she hit the rock wall. The minefield in front of them was completely hidden in the ancient riverbed; camouflaged by boulders and fallen debris. "If the guns strafed the canyon floor, they'd destroy the mines. Which defeats the purpose, rather." River pointed at the canyon wall opposite. “Look."

A turret stood, half hidden by rock, 25 metres above the ground. The weapon was silent. If it switched on, it would destroy their cover in one shot. The next would pulverize them. Or it might just hit the rocks above them and start a landslide, doing the job with one shot.

The Doctor didn't rise. "I'll take your word for it."

That got her attention. River turned, her gaze sweeping over him. She took in his kneeling position, the way the harness twisted against his waist and thighs. He was hurting, but she couldn't immediately see why. Remembering their tumble, she settled down beside him and, without a word, began to knead his neck and shoulders. Massaging through the suit wasn't very effective, but she felt helpless enough to want to at least convey sympathy. She moved to his hands, massaging each finger in turn. It was a wonder abseiling for both of them at that speed hadn't burned through the suit gloves. Then she recalled the harness and how violently it had jerked -- oh, no. She winced in sympathy. She couldn't exactly massage his sore bits, and he wouldn't thank her at the moment. She settled for rubbing small circles on his back between his shoulders. "Just breathe, Sweetie."

"We don't have time," he replied, but still didn't move.

No, they didn't, but since whomever was manning the guns had decided not to kill them -- for now, at least -- they could take a breather. And yet, that didn't make sense, in the larger narrative. The discontinuity niggled at the back of her mind. "We're trapped as neatly as fish in a barrel. Disarming the mines will take time."

He relaxed, easing into a seated position, his breathing slowing. "Thanks. Helluva security system. And, thank you."

"Thank you." She smiled softly at him. "The Varians were serious about keeping intruders out of here. Just think, the security system has been active all this time, doing its job. I don't know if I should be impressed or frightened."

"The Varians were superb craftsmen. Is this the kind of archeaology you had in mind?"

She laughed. "Not quite. Though I'm thrilled just the same. These weapons are artifacts. It's more than most people discover in their entire careers."

"And discovered it, we have."

"Or it's discovered us. That's been bothering me. The nanobots, the guns. There is a strategy behind it all, but it's very clinical -- like moves in a chess game. Attack, counterattack. A sentient being is more spontaneous. I don't think anyone is running the show here at all. I think someone forgot to turn out the lights when they left."

He was silent for a long moment and, trying to helps the bits of him she could relieve, she awkwardly massaged his right arm through the suit.

"River, I think you're right."

"Ooh. Say that again."

"River," she heard the smile in his voice, a welcome return to his normal demeanor, "Dr River Song, you are absolutely correct."

"Ha! I'll have to record this moment in my journal. So, we have a problem." She began massaging his other arm. "On the one hand, an automated system lacks the ingenuity of a living mind. On the other, a machine doesn't know when to stop. There's no one to bargain with or manipulate. No wiggle room."

"You'd be surprised," the Doctor replied. "Are you okay? Sorry, should have asked."

"You've had other things on your mind. I'm fine. That was a rollercoaster, but I came down in one piece. What about you?" Her gaze turned sharp, assessing.

"Well," he hesitated, searching for the right words. He wriggled his hips, testing himself. "Well. Let's just say I'm glad we're on terra firma."

"I'll make it up to you. Later." She squeezed his hand gently.

He clambered to his feet. "Shall we test your hypothesis?"

"Let me see what's out there, first." River unclipped her scanner from her utility belt and pointed it north, south, west and east. A minute later, the machine scrolled topographical data down the screen. The data resolved itself into a map, detailing both natural formations and artificial ones. The minefield was outlined in red. "Well, that's helpful," River fiddled with the settings and the red areas divided into individual mines.

He hovered over her shoulder, and their helmets clanked together. "The base itself -- since we are looking for a Varian base now, yes -- the base itself is nicely hidden from your scanner. My bet is here," he indicated a shallow fork in the crevasse, ending in a rockfall.

"Did the big glowing minefield give it away? So," River gazed toward the rockfall, as if she could see the base hidden behind it, "fancy a game of hopscotch?"

He brandished his sonic and gingerly stepped out from behind their sheltering boulder. "I don't have to remind you to stay close, do I?"

"Of course not, Sweetie." Her voice was a purr. She tried to think of the many ways this adventure could end messily for them both. But then again, wasn't that part of the thrill? She shouldered the duffel bag.

River kept one hand on his back as he leant forward, stepping slowly, intent on the readouts from the sonic. They fell into a familiar pattern: every few steps, he'd hold up his hand, signalling a stop. Then he'd kneel and, with exquisite care, defuse the mine with his sonic. Even though the helmet she could hear the buzz of the tool, and then a low mechanical whine that slowly faded into silence as the mine powered down. Once the Doctor verified the mine was clear, they'd step forward again.

The canyon around them was eerily still, the sky only visible as a thin ribbon of color through the walls of the crevasse. The air around had a heavy feeling, as if waiting for a cloudburst. River rolled her shoulders. "We're too exposed out here. There's no way we've avoided the surveillance system."

"I don't disagree, but I'm working as fast as I can," he said as another mine switched off. Behind them lay the drunken, wayward path they had forged through the minefield. Before them, well, they hadn't even gotten halfway through yet.

"I know." She smoothed a hand down his back in apology. "An alarm has to have sounded in the base. We aren't exactly being subtle. If the stories about Varian technology are to be believed, we should be dead by now."

"It all depends on available resources. And we don't really have a choice, do we?" They crept forward another few metres, and the Doctor went down on his knees again. The sonic buzzed, and River waited for the whine. It didn't happen. He scanned again, checked the readout, then adjusted the settings. Again, nothing. "Oh, dear."


	9. VIII: Belshazzar

PERIMETER -1 DEFENSES DISABLED  
ANALYZE FAILURE...  
.  
.  
SONIC DEVICE IDENTIFIED  
EVALUATE...  
.  
.  
BYPASS DEVISED  
APPLY PATCH TO PERIMETER -1  
.  
.  
PATCH SUCCESSFUL  
EXTRAPOLATE PATCH  
UPDATE FACILITY 100%  
.  
.  
PATCH "deadlock" VERIFIED  
.  
.  
EVALUATE THREAT  
THREAT LEVEL: SEMKA  
EVALUATE PROBABILITY OF SKARSAK INCURSION...  
.  
.  
INSUFFICIENT DATA  
DATA EXTRACTION REQUIRED  
THREAT LEVEL SEMKA SUBROUTINE  
.  
.  
SECURITY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/CAPTURE  
/NEUTRALIZE  
/CONTAIN

* * *

"Oh, dear." The Doctor was on his hands and knees, hovering over a mine. A mine that would not seem to disarm.

"What?" River didn't look down at him, just kept scanning the horizon for threats. The sonic whizzed again, but there was no answering whine. She counted out the seconds - one - two - three. "No. Don't tell me -- deadlocked?"

She heard the sonic snap open and whir again. "'Fraid so. Stay here, I can still scan." He gingerly picked a path back to a previously-disabled mine. "This one's still disarmed. That’s a plus."

River unholstered her weapon -- not that she could duel with a minefield, but the heft of the blaster in her hands was reassuring.

The Doctor picked his way around their immediate area, testing mines as he went. At last he stood and took in their predicament. "It's learning."

"Lovely. We could retrace our steps, back to the canyon wall, but where would that leave us?"

"Nowhere good," the Doctor agreed. He peered over her shoulder, his helmet clanking against hers, and tilted her scanner so that he could read the overhead map. "If we press on, well, that's not very good either."

River swept her gaze over the canyon, noting gun emplacements on the walls, and the expanse of minefield around them. "I can see why -- whomever it is -- didn't bother shooting at us down here. Much more efficient to let us blow ourselves up."

"Quite. The attacks so far have truly been a demonstration of efficiency -- a carefully metered response, every step of the way. Parsimonious, even. Points in favor of your machine intelligence theory, Dr. Song."

"A proper villain would have lit up the canyon floor and be done with us," River agreed.

"Don't give it any ideas. So which way shall we turn?"

"I don't like paying for the same ground twice."

"And my TARDIS is over there."

River adjusted her scanner, trying for the highest resolution image she could obtain. The map appeared, its swath of red only half diminished. She squinted at the details. "Not sure I trust my life to this map," she said.

"Belt-and-braces, then." The Doctor carefully swept his sonic over the landscape, scanning. "Here we go, use my footsteps."

"Got it." She followed carefully behind him as he picked through the minefield. The space between explosives was barely enough to place her feet. More than once, she found herself balancing precariously between one step and the next.

"Something about this minefield," the Doctor said as he took a deliberate step.

"Yes?" River answered while placing her foot inside the print his boot had just made.

"We're in a riverbed, yes?"

"Yes, that's how most canyons in the universe are carved, dear."

"Why haven't the mines washed away?"

Before River could answer, a plasma bolt blasted across her field of vision, triggering the UV shield on her helmet, but still leaving an after-image. The shock threw off her balance, and she wobbled precariously, not daring to move her feet to stabilize herself. Another bolt shot to her other side, but it was dimmed by the helmet. Who the hell had designed these things to blind you when you desperately needed to see what was going on?

Then again, these weren't meant to be combat suits.

The Doctor wavered, caught midway between two awkward steps. River grabbed his arm, steadying him.

More bolts. River fired her gun in the general direction of the blasts, hoping for suppression fire at least. Exposed and unable to move, like insects on a pin, she and the Doctor stood, frozen, on the plain.

"Those are warning shots," the Doctor said, "we're being hemmed in."

Her vision stabilized, and she could see in the distance six dots against the backdrop of the rocks. No, they were shapes, moving quickly, shifting position, as if manipulated by an unseen juggler. "Doctor..."

As they closed in, River saw the dull sheen of metal. They were each about a metre tall, plated in a burnished copper, roughly the shape of a medieveal knight's helmet, complete with a T-shaped groove. The crossbar of the T stretched 360 degrees around the unit, and River guessed the main sensors were in the grooves. The metal was etched, and the sweeping designs were dotted with navigation or indicator lights, as if the builder was a frustrated jeweler.

They hovered, soundlessly, elegantly, and River was reminded of the antigrav unit in the winged bot they had found. They had to be Varian -- the last vestiges of a great, enlightened empire.

Her scholarly thrill was considerably diminished by the high-powered plasma weapon held by an articulating arm at the bottom of each unit.

The formation shifted again, splitting into a flanking maneuver. Herded, trapped. River swallowed against a wave of claustrophobia. She took aim.

"River!" the Doctor shouted just as a sentry fired at the ground, maybe three meters ahead of them. The bolt struck a mine, triggering it. She felt the Doctor's arms around her waist as he held her steady against the shockwave; a tumble could be deadly. Dirt, rocks and debris rained down on them, blocking their vision. "This isn't a good place for a shootout. Follow me!"

He hopscotched back they way they had come. Another mine exploded next to them, and River managed to direct her fall onto a previously-disarmed mine. When she rose to her feet, another patrol of sentries was working its way across the field, blocking their escape.

"Drop your gun," the Doctor said evenly.

* * *

Everything within River balked at the command, but she couldn't dispute the Doctor's reasoning. Slowly, she placed the gun on the ground in front of her. One of the sentries darted forward, and fired. Her favorite blaster melted on the spot. River glared at it.

"Sorry," the Doctor patted her shoulder.

River shrugged. "What's Varian for 'we mean you no harm?"

The sentry bots circled around them, but they left open a narrow gap, facing the general direction of their desired destination. Beyond their captors, River could see the gun turrets on the canyon walls turning to track their movements. "I hope they disabled the mines," she said.

The Doctor stepped ahead, towards the gap in the circle. The toe of his boot struck a mine, and River exhaled in relief. "Excellent," the Doctor said, "this is shaping up to be a very convenient incarceration."

They made good progress towards the base, and River had to acknowledge that this was a lot easier than forcing their way in. Still, she harbored a long-standing hatred of feeling trapped, and had to fight the urge to bolt.

"Look," the Doctor said, and pointed ahead of them. The sentry gave a warning tone, and he waved his hands in apology.

River saw what had caught his attention: more robots, very similar, if not identical, to the sentries. Except instead of rifles, they were each fitted with a spider-like arm apparatus, and carried a mine. A column of fifteen robots filed by in procession, heading out to the main canyon.

"Mine farmers, tending their fields," the Doctor whispered.

"Like a hive," River said. From here, she could take in the layered defensive lines that surrounded the base: strafing guns, minefields, sentries. It had been carefully designed to decimate any assault -- either ground-based or low-altitude.

They crunched along the riverbed-turned-minefield, and when they turned into the dead-end canyon spur, River gasped. The base was -- as best as she could discern -- wedged into the crevasse. The center of the base was visible from the outside, but it extended directly into the canyon walls, as if massive chunks of the rock were carved out to fit it in. The exposed surface was an arc, she guessed it was basically a saucer, probably 3 kilometres in diameter, at least. The top edge was camouflaged perfectly: from above, it looked like the canyon floor: sand and rocks carved by the river. But from below, it was a massive, crystalline structure, strangely beautiful in spite of its purpose. It stood on a network of elegant 10-metre tall stilts, presumably to allow the seasonal river to flow beneath it. The stilts weren't the only features visible on the underside. At the centre, or what must have been the centre, a heavy, wide pillar stood. It wasn't a weight-bearing pedestal, though, and River got the sense that the column extended deep below ground level.

Their guards led them beyond the structure's overhang -- River could just barely make out windows along the leading edge. As they passed beneath the base, it blocked out the view of the sky, and River looked around for the front door.

The central pillar came into closer view, and its crystals pulsing different colors. Was it a sensor tower? Or natural energy collector?

"Energy collector," the Doctor helpfully answered her unspoken question. "At a guess, the supporting framework is buried throughout this side of the moon, pylons built into the moon itself, antenna structures poking out of rocks, hidden from view. Spanning dozens of kilometers, collecting energy from the plasma in the atmosphere. Or, hm."

"That would explain a lot," River said, "wait, what do you mean 'hm'?"

"Well, if the superstructure is used to collect and transmit energy, I wonder if it could work in the other direction."

"You mean like a big -- "

River was cut off by the sentries closing ranks around them.

"Sorry, we were just having a chat," the Doctor said, "not like you lot are terribly engaging."

A low vibration shook their feet, and before them a crystal pedestal took shape as the illusion of rocks and sand melted away. The sentry robots hovered around them, ethereal and deadly.

"I think we're meant to stand on it," the Doctor's voice crackled in her ear.

"You think?" She stepped onto it, and the platform turned green. "Under other circumstances, I'd be ecstatic right now."

"It is gorgeous, isn't it?"

Before she could reply, the crystal beneath their feet turned purple, and a familiar tingle began in her toes and raced up her body.

"I hope the transmat still..." the Doctor began, as their surroundings dissolved around them. River closed her eyes, hoping, and then opened them. A new scene was just resolving around her, and her stomach lurched and she wobbled on her feet. "... Works," he finished his sentence. "Well done," he whispered.

"Oh, look, a cell. Feels just like home," River said. It was a three meter square chamber. The walls were made out of the same crystal as the outside of the base -- leave it to the Varians to even decorate their holding cells. She reached out to touch one, and was immediately zapped with a low-voltage charge. "Not enough to kill someone," she commented conversationally, "but enough to get the point across." She clenched and unclenched her fist experimentally.

"I wonder if there's a door," the Doctor mused. "Always best to have cell with a door." He took readings along each wall, and stopped at a spot and sonicked it. "It's a door, but deadlocked. This could get complicated."

"It isn't already?" River paced along the back wall. "All right. Point in our favor: we aren't dead. Point in their favor: we're in a cell." She unclipped her scanner from her belt and took a few readings. "Oxygen level is stable, which means breathable air."

"That's a point in our favor. Fair is fair."

She laughed and unhooked her helmet. "So, a cell." She set the helmet at her feet and shook her hair free. "Different planet, same venue."

The Doctor chuckled with her and unlatched his own helmet. 

But then, the crystalline walls and ceiling glowed, and a deep hum crescendoed and echoed off the walls. They both put their hands over their ears to block out the deafening sound. The frequency seemed to vibrate their very bones, and River felt as if she would either lose consciousness, or vomit.

After several bone-jarring, stomach-churning seconds, silence fell. River and the Doctor gasped, struggling to stay upright. Around them, they heard small popping noises, followed by the smell of ozone.

Once he recovered, the Doctor checked his comlink. It was dead. "Now that's just rude!"

River gazed at the now defunct scanner in her hand, then turned her attention to the Doctor’s environmental suit. The readouts for oxygen and temperature control were blank. "EMP. It's what I would do."

"One-stop solution," the Doctor agreed. "I was wondering why they didn't take our toys away. We don't have a lot of room to maneuver, as of yet." He caught her eye and winked as he slid the sonic into his utility belt, and patted it. She got the message, and nodded. Shielded, then. Clever Doctor. Point in their favor.

"And I'm unarmed, unless you count my lipstick. Which I don't think will help us at present. I'm willing to give it a try, though." She winked in the general direction of the ceiling -- assuming they were being monitored.

"A Varian AI that's had centuries to adapt," the Doctor said thoughtfully. "Could be lonely, you never know. But let's save that for a final option, eh?"

"I'll keep the lipstick handy, just in case." River paced the length of the cell. She'd learned quite a bit from her years of incarceration. Mostly that it was tedious. She was quite sure she would have run mad at Stormcage if she hadn't had her books and the Doctor dropping in on her every so often. "Any idea when our illustrious captor will decide to make an appearance?"

"Depends on who -- or perhaps what -- is happening," the Doctor said thoughtfully. "Um, hello?" he announced to the universe at large. "Perhaps we could have a chat?"

They were answered with a full minute of stony silence. The Doctor's face contorted into an expression of affronted indignance.

Then she saw it. First, a slight distortion high in the centre of the room, and then a shimmer. Recognizing it for what it was -- more transmat activity -- they both stepped back to avoid the materialization field. She heard a zap and a yelp as the Doctor accidentally backed into the wall. She winced in sympathy and he stuck his thumb in his mouth.

The shimmer resolved into a group of Varian nanobots. She recognized half a dozen like the miniature stylized skycrane they had found earlier -- hovering in a hexagonal formation, and each clutching another robot. These second bots were spiky little ballls that glowed with amber light.

"Those are wee little transmat points," the Doctor said -- his expression as enraptured as she imagined hers to be. "They're so... cute."

"Depends on what they're transmatting," River replied.

"Oh there you go, being all practical," he scoffed.

Another set of shapes resolved within the transmat bots' formation. This second wave of bots, a spindly set of four were styled like miniature helicopters. They floated up to the ceiling and attached themselves there, like bats. The outer shell of this design was studded with what River guessed to be sensor arrays. These were the eyes, then. A shiver ran up her spine. There was nowhere to hide.

The third wave was more foreboding: they were golfball-sized, but these bots had teeth. Each was little more than a flying set of buzzsaws.

The Doctor frowned. "Oh, I don't like the look of those at all."

River didn't, either. "This is new." She reached for her gun and cursed softly when her hand met empty air.

The blades started spinning -- slowly at first. She immediately called to mind the strategically shredded equipment and supplies in the mine. Reinforced teeth, whirring at high speed, capable of tearing through alloy shielding like butter.

What could it do to flesh?

Undeterred, the Doctor clapped his hands together and said, "Ah! Hello, I'm the Doctor, and this is --"

The blades spun faster, the bots bobbed out of the transmat formation. A low whine filled the cell, increasing in pitch and volume as the blades picked up speed.

The bobbing stopped, and for a moment, frozen in time, River realized both what would happen, and the truth that there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it.

River threw up her arm to shield her face as the buzzbots descended on them. It was instinctive more than effectual, and she braced for the pain, the blood, the ripping of flesh and bone.

The buzzing filled her ears, and the material of her suit tugged in all directions. She fell to her knees to escape the pressure on her back, the roaring sounds of the blades cutting through the oxygen pack and environmental stabilizers on the back of the suit.

Amazed at her continued existence, River opened her eyes and through the sparks saw the Doctor, much in the same position as herself. The buzzbots had surgically damaged his suit -- tearing holes and cutting the survival tech out of the garment.

He shifted position quickly, pivoting onto his knee, to wield his sonic with his outstretched arm. One buzzbot backed away from his face, but not fast enough to avoid leaving a small cut on his cheek.

The bots drew back suddenly and returned to a formation, then levitated slowly up to join the rest of the swarm. One of the buzzbots lagged behind, then stopped completely, hovering in mid air. It bumped against the sonic curiously and the Doctor looked like he had a tiger by the tail. River caught his eye and then scooped up her helmet and captured the bot against the floor, like trapping a spider.

The rest of the swarm dematerialized from the cell, seemingly unaware that one of its fellows was missing.

River and the Doctor remained motionless, breathing heavily. Cold air found its way into the holes in her suit. The Doctor -- sprawled on the floor, suit in tatters -- still held the sonic. She heard the low whir, and desperately wished he had built the thing to run quieter. He pursed his lips and exhaled, then carefully changed the sonic's setting and gently laid it beside the helmet, its emerald light glowing dimly. He covered it with a patch of cloth ripped from his suit.

Sitting up, he looked over at her and shrugged, then mouthed, "It worked."

"What part of this situation are you referring to?" River said. Still a touch wobbly, she slid across the floor and wiped away the thin line of blood on his cheek. The cut was minor, but the sight of his blood always triggered her nurturing instincts. Usually shortly after it triggered her murderous instincts.

"That's our little secret," the Doctor replied in the multisyllabic tones of colloquial Gallilfreyan. She looked at him askance and his eyes darted up, indicating the surveillance they were certainly under. "I think I jammed its connection to the hive. It's in a holding pattern."

"Right then," she replied in the same language, "there's never been a translator built that could decipher Gallifreyan."

"That's two points in our favor." Switching back to their usual English, he continued, "Too bad those buzzy things didn't approve of our tailor."

"One point in their favor. The suits are useless: we've lost pressurization, oxygen, thermal control, communication."

"At least we still have our modesty." He inspected his shredded suit. "Well, mostly."

She ran her eyes up and down his body. "Pity, that."

Time slipped by, and they rested by sitting on the floor, back-to-back. He felt solid against her, and warm. While that would normally be a pleasant experience, it was still an incarceration. River itched to skip ahead in the narrative. "I wonder if good little prisoners get fed? Hey!" she shouted at the ceiling. "How about some water? A four course dinner?"

"Now, now, dear, be nice. After all, we haven't been summarily executed, yet."

"Don't go giving it ideas." She raised her voice, "Can we move this along? I'd like to get back to my regularly scheduled incarceration."

The cell remained quiet, save for their breathing. A long minute later, a deep, rich voice filled the room. It spoke in English, the accent thick and just short of incomprehensible. "Query," it said.

River felt the Doctor stiffen, then turn to look at her over his shoulder. It spoke another word, but the pronunciation was too poor to decipher.

The Doctor leapt to his feet. "Question. You have a question?"

Again, a pause. Then, in a slightly better accent: "Query. Question. Purpose. Intent."

* * *

"Query. Question. Purpose. Intent," their invisible captor said.

"Our purpose?" the Doctor said. "We’re tourists. I'm the Doctor, by the way, and this is Doctor Song." He offered to shake hands with empty air, then with a look of chagrin, his hand fell to his side.

"Tourist... tourist... unknown."

"Travellers. Students of the universe."

"Correlating language. Both subjects designated Doctor. Explain."

"Doctor. A title. Well, my name, her title. What is your designation?"

"Designation and capability: classified. Facility Master Unit. This is an interrogation. Explain your presence."

The Doctor turned toward River and grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere! Fred -- 'Facility Master Unit' sounds so formal, don't you think? Fred, who is the commander of this lovely... er..."

"We would like to speak to your commander," River cut in.

"Commander: unavailable. Facility Master Unit primary contact. Repeat: explain your presence."

"Unavailable? How? Is he in a meeting?" He leaned toward River. "You know how it is -- all the bigwigs stuck in conference when something interesting finally happens." River's lips twitched upward. "Pull him out then. Stop the presses! Or can't you do that?"

"Subject obfuscation level 24394 snatch 5. Evaluate threat level; new threat level EYN. Reassessing."

Cute as he was, the Doctor was escalating the situation. "Diplomacy not going so well, is it?" River said in Gallifreyan. "We can't put its question off forever, but we can't exactly tell it the truth."

She paced the cell once, then turned on her heel and addressed their interrogator, "Computer, who do you think we are?"

"Unknown. Threat level evaluation demands this unit identify Skarsak agents. Subjects designated Doctor and Doctor are of unknown hostile origin. Probability of Skarsak incursion increasing."

"Skarsak?" River mouthed.

The Doctor stepped forward. "Oh, we're not invaders. We're not even Skarsak. Newsflash -- the war's over. You won, congratulations. Time to pack it in, close up shop, throw a parade."

"Falsehood. Varian homeworld unresponsive. Strategic situation unknown. Prognosis: Skarsak victory. The prime directive of this unit is to defend this sector. Probability of Skarsak invasion now 76.8%. Identify means, method and metrics of Skarsak invasion."

"There is no invasion! The is one ship, two people. One ship, not an armada --"

"Doctor --" River grabbed his arm. She shook her head sharply.

"Oh," the Doctor said pensively.

"Yes, quite," she replied in Gallifreyan. "I don't think now is a good time to discuss the Erdani plague and the collapse of the Varian Protectorate, do you?"

The Doctor grimaced and switched back back to English. "It seems to me that we're at a bit of an impasse, Fred. Now I'm not a computer expert -- well, yes I sort of am -- but I'd guess your logic subroutines are going a bit circular. You need information, so you ask us questions. But then you disregard our answers because they're not logical. But what if -- what if -- we're telling you the truth? Isn't it logical to investigate that possibility? I mean, why ask questions otherwise?"

"Unknown language present. Parsing unsuccessful. Threat level elevated. New threat level: PEY. Sector defense scan initiated. Interview concluded."

The Doctor clapped his hands. "That went well."

"It's not exactly programmed for interrogation, is it?" River said in Gallifreyan.

"No," the Doctor replied in the same language, "the Varian crew would have done that, and they're long gone. Notice how it's learning English quickly, just by eavesdropping. We must be careful. Sector defense scan. Don't like the sound of that."

"Nor do I. Do you think this complex is more than an outpost for protecting the bertrillium? A strategic outpost, on the frontier of an empire at war..."

"A perfect place to put a great big gun. And the AI has only been worked up enough once in the past ten thousand years to fire it."

"At the approaching Frillan armada," River continued, "at extreme long-range. There are spacelanes all over this sector. Commercial, cruise liners, this is a major thoroughfare."

"Congratulations, Dr Song, your unerring instinct for trouble has lead you solve not just one mystery, but two. Almost as good as me." He reached up to straighten his bow-tie but had to settle on giving his torn environmental suit a readjustment.

"That's something to aspire to? At the risk of stating the obvious, we need to get out of here and shut this thing down."

* * *

STELLAR SCAN INITIATED...  
.  
.  
NO TARGETS WITHIN RANGE  
EXTEND RANGE 10%  
SCAN...  
PROCESSING...  
RUN SCAN SUBROUTINE  
UPLOAD WHEN COMPLETE

* * *

River glanced at her helmet."It seems like our friend Fred doesn't know this little guy is missing. What happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the Doctor said. "I think I jammed its connection to the swarm and it defaulted to a holding pattern. As far as why Fred doesn't know his pet is missing, the swarms were built to be autonomous. That's the strength of the swarm: it operates independently when given a relatively simple instruction. Fred doesn't have to control each nanobot individually."

"There must be video feeds in here. It has to have seen something."

"What it saw was a lot of chaos. Since guile isn't exactly Fred's strong suit, it's safe to say he didn't notice our trick. But that's not the bigger question. The bigger question is how do we get out of here?"

"Well, I don't think I can kiss my way out. We can try the old standby: play sick and jump the guard when he comes to check.'"

"An oldie but a goodie," the Doctor agreed. He paced across the room and sat on his haunches next to River's helmet. He surreptitiously eyed his screwdriver, sitting on the floor, still emanating a low level sonic pulse. "Assuming Fred is willing to open the door for any reason."

* * *

OBSERVE SUBJECTS  
PARSE NEW LANGUAGE...  
.  
.

* * *

The Doctor picked up a torn CO2 scrubber and examined it. "If you can find an intact micro heater, maybe I can build a telurite micro welder." He was sqautting on the floor of the cell, in front of a growing pile of odds and ends River was salvaging from the remains of their ruined suits.

"I'm on it," she sidled up behind him, found a tear in the back of his suit, and ripped it wider. She felt around inside his suit, dislodging coolant tubes and sensor wires.

"Oh! That tickles!"

"Once again, right sentiment, wrong time," she murmured into his ear. She tossed each into the ever growing pile between them. Her hand hit a square of metal, no larger than the palm of her hand, located in the suit's right shoulder. "Ah, ha!" She pulled the heater free triumphantly.

The long-silent voice of Fred echoed in the small room: "Cease your activities."

"Oh, hullo Fred," the Doctor said cheerfully, "glad you stopped by. How are things with you?"

"Cease your activities."

"Come in and make us," River muttered under her breath. Aloud, she said: "Not a lot to do in here. No books, no InterStellar News. Just what kind of cell are you running?"

There was no response from Fred. After several minutes, the Doctor said, "How rude."

* * *

UNABLE TO PARSE LANGUAGE  
EVALUATE THREAT  
THREAT LEVEL REMAINS PEY  
ASSESSING...  
.  
.  
FOCUS SHIFT  
SUBJECT THREAT CAPABILITY > LANGUAGE PARSE PRIORITY  
.  
.  
SEPARATE SUBJECTS TO REDUCE RISK  
.  
.  
SECURITY SYSTEM SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/GET SENTRIES  
/ISOLATE PRISONERS

 

* * *

"I wish I could use my screwdriver," the Doctor said as he tied cables into a wire harness.

River focused on the steady thump of her hammer as she flattened out the O-Ring on the Doctor's helmet.

Thump. Thump. Whirrrr.

She stopped her hammer. Whir? She glanced up at the Doctor, eyebrow raised in question. He shook his head. The sound came again, clearer this time. The whine of a finely tuned motor.

River tensed.

"Remember the stone," the Doctor whispered.

She took a deep breath, extended her senses, and suddenly, there was not one Doctor in front of her but many, each caught mid-motion. Many Doctors, and many Rivers, representing potential futures. She sought out the sharpest image:

_The Doctor sprang to his feet and kicked her helmet over, releasing the buzzbot. At the same time, the cell door slid open, revealing a sentry floating in the entryway, another close behind. Using the sonic like a fishing rod, the Doctor flung the buzzbot at the first sentry. Metal blades whirring, it chewed through the sentry like paper, spewing sparks and white-hot bits of metal. The sentry stopped cold, in mid-air, and shuddered._

_Before it fell to the ground, River darted forward and grabbed the gun attachment. As she did so, disruptor fire from the second sentry scored her side, charring her flesh. River screamed._

No. Breathe in. Start again. Ah, that's what she needed to do.

She tightened her grip on her hammer. The door hissed open. Just as in her vision, the Doctor kicked the helmet aside and flung the buzzbot at the first sentry.

River rushed the damaged sentry, grabbed the barrel of its gun and used her momentum to swing it to face the hall. Her free hand flung the hammer at the second sentry, just as it brought its weapon to bear. The projectile hit the gun-arm and the shot went wide. 

Four sentries remained. River used the first gun to fill the hall with weapon fire.

When she stopped, all six sentries lay crumpled on the floor.

* * *

ALERT!  
PRISONER ESCAPE  
EVALUATING...  
.  
.  
RISK UNACCEPTABLE  
DIRECT TERMINATION AUTHORIZED  
.  
.  
NEW THREAT LEVEL: SADE  
.  
.  
BIO PROFILE EVALUATED  
.  
.  
SECURITY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/ISOLATE  
/ELIMINATE LIFE SUPPORT  
/SENTRY MATRIX 7 DEFENSIVE PATTERN  
.  
.  
MANUFACTURING PLANT COMMAND:  
/SHIFT PRODUCTION TO SENTRY UNITS  
/DEPLOY


	10. IX: Ghost Riders

The Doctor stepped over the burnt-out hulk of a sentry and into the corridor. No further guards were immediately visible.

The design of the structure had more in common with a resort than a military base. The walls glowed softly and gentle light shone through swirls of pulsing colour. The ambient light was a pleasant amber, typical of Varian sensibility. The other feature typical of Varian architecture was the size of the corridor: the ceiling barely cleared the Doctor's head, and he crouched to keep clear of it. It allowed precious little room to manuever.

His sonic out, he scanned for the TARDIS's location.

"Any luck?" River called to him. She had detached the gun from one sentry, and was working on a second. The Doctor didn't like guns. Except when River was wielding them.

Before he could answer, they both jumped as a series of pounding, staccatto thuds echoed down the corridor. The reinforced doors that sectioned off segments of bulkhead slammed into place, effectively cutting them off. His ears ringing, the Doctor said, "I found the TARDIS, but..."

A new sound reverberated through the corridor: turbines powering up to full speed. River cursed a blue streak in Altaran. "Fred's playing with the ventilation system. I wonder what he's pumping in?" River moved quickly, stripping the sentries of their energy packs.

As the Doctor scanned, River pushed him against the corridor wall, and stood in the centre of the hall, holding two disruptors, one trained on either door, ready for the onslaught to begin. An image of Leela, the fierce huntress, appeared in his mind's eye. "I don't like this," River said,. "we're stuck on the wrong side of a shooting gallery. Talk to me, Doctor -- why are the fans on?"

He took a deep breath, held it in, analysed it. "I don't know. I don't think it's poison." Another breath. Something... "It's the oxygen. Fred is pulling out the oxygen." He turned on the spot and scanned again. "I found the TARDIS, but... Too far." The Doctor indicated the corridor that was now behind him. "Two corridors down, one level up and," he said as he squinted at the sonic, "a load of energy readings in between. We need somewhere else to go."

The fans continued their steady hum. "Which way, Doctor?"

"Scanning, scanning… Aha! There's an untapped oxygen reservoir that way." He pointed to the door they were now facing.

"How far?" River was already running to the door, levelling her gun.

"Two corridor segments, then a right. It's a big open space. Lots of oxygen." He fell into pace behind her, glancing worriedly over his shoulder, to the opposite -- and still closed -- door.

The light from River's disruptor flashed, and he heard the telltale pop of damaged bulkhead. An access plate clattered to the floor, revealing a control panel. The Doctor slid to a stop in front of the panel and reached inside. "Magnetic lock, going to assume Fred's deadlocked everything," he muttered as his fingers felt along the controls and exposed wires. The surface was hot from the blaster, but at least the suit gloves offered some protection. "Almost... old fashioned hotwiring job... almost... got it!"

The locking mechanism powered down with a whine. "Oh, bother," the Doctor said as his fingers found molten metal in place of the power door control. 

"What?" River asked as she turned her head from side to side, watching for movement from every direction. "Is it locked?"

"No, the motor is out, I have to open it..." The Doctor threw himself to the ground in front of the door, his fingers desperately seeking a hold. Mercifully, the door had released a centimetre when the magnetic lock blew. "Got it!"

But he didn't really have it. The thing was impossibly heavy. His fingertips slipped once, twice, and finally he got just enough hold to pull up. He grunted with effort, but it did not budge. He sucked in several breaths -- noting the steady drop in oxygen level -- and kicked in his adrenal glands, focusing his mind and body into opening the door. Like an Olympic power lifter, he howled with the effort. Slowly, he raised it to his knees, and then his waist. 

"River, go, that's all I've got," he panted.

She was already kneeling, sweeping her gun over the next corridor, checking for guards. "It's clear -- for now." She slid into the next compartment. He worked his way through, first sliding under in on his hands and knees. And then, while she helped stabilise the door, he finally rolled away. The door slammed shut behind them, narrowly missing his ankle.

"This is taking too long," River said, breathing heavily, "and look, another door."

"Take it at an angle," he said, even as she fired again. This time, though, she didn't melt the whole unit and they were through in a matter of seconds.

They ran toward the third door, River leading, finger on the trigger. Before she could fire, they heard the lock disengage on its own. The Doctor imagined Fred clearing the way for the guard robots to advance -- if Fred was going to utilise the guards, the doors had to open to allow their movement. River must have had the same thought, because she shoved him against the bulkhead, leaving the centre of the hall free for her to move.

The blast door sprung open and River's disruptor spat fire. The corridor was full of competing energy beams, but River made quick work of the squad. "Let's go," she said hoarsely.

"Last one," the Doctor said, his own voice only marginally stronger. They had only a minute, maybe two, before incapacitation. River banked a blast at the last control panel as she ran, and it blew open in a shower of sparks. The Doctor flung up an arm to shield his face.

"Arrgh! A little more caution, please!" He was already reaching inside the panel, separating wires.

"No time," she snapped.

He would have told her she was right, but it would have been an unnecessary waste of oxygen. The release sounded and the door slid open, but was stuck half-way. They scuttled through, and it slammed shut behind them with a boom.

"Oxygen?" River looked at him expectantly. Her breathing was laboured, her chest rapidly rising and falling. 

"Close." They were now in a T-shaped intersection, and a right turn down the stem of the 'T' revealed another blast door. This one had a window and was marked in Varian writing the Doctor only barely noted: 'Crew Quarters.'

Before they could contemplate this obstacle, a familiar hissing and the deep thud of a magnetic lock release filled the corridor behind them. 

River raised the gun to her shoulder, but dropped it again when she realised there was no exterior access panel to shoot. She glanced at him for just a moment, desperation and fear in her eyes. He nodded.

The hum of the hovering sentries approached. River jogged back to the junction to give the Doctor more space to work. Desperately, he ran his fingers along the edges of the door. No mechanism. Must have been voice or DNA activated.

A fierce volley of blaster fire exploded behind him. Hold them off, River. Be careful.

His next breath came in a gasp.

River, I'm sorry.

With nothing left to try, he scanned with his sonic.

The blaster fire stopped, and River ran back towards him, her hair singed and her face pale. She had lost one gun, and was waving the remaining weapon wildly at him.

He checked his reading, squinting through the stars filling his vision. That was odd. He switched the setting and sonicked the door.

It slid open.

He didn't have time to admire his luck -- if that's what it was -- because River pushed him inside. He tripped and fell to his knees, and River followed him in, but stopped and turned, facing another trio of sentries speeding towards them.

Three shots, and two had fallen to the floor, sparking and twitching. The third was still flying toward them, even though its gun was hanging precariously from its damaged arm. River ducked out of the way as it zoomed past, and the Doctor used his sonic to shut the door.

The last sentry slammed against a stanchion behind them, and River delivered the coup de grace.

Meanwhile, the Doctor sonicked the door into a clever -- if he did say so himself -- lockdown. It wouldn't hold against sustained disruptor fire, but at least Fred wouldn't be able to immediately open it.

It was all about buying time, and oxygen. His lungs rejoiced at the richness of the air, and he remained on his knees, sucking in deep breaths.

River swam into his field of vision, and he caught the disruptor she tossed him. She, too, was breathing heavily, but the colour had returned to her lovely face. "That's better," she said and nodded at him.

"Isn't it?" He checked his rifle's power pack. Not bad, but not near enough.

"But it doesn't make any sense," River said as she replaced the power pack in her rifle.

"Check with me later," the Doctor said as he raised the rifle to his shoulder, sighting down the barrel, ready for the next onslaught.

River was doing the same. "If we have a later."

* * *

The door would be blasted away any second. In the his hands, with the butt against his shoulder, the gun felt both uncomfortable and reassuring. The Doctor didn't take the time to analyse it overmuch. Beside him, River waited. not as tense, perhaps, as her instinctive -- he refused to think programmed -- warrior's reflexes took hold.

Why was the door still there? It had been over a minute. Hearts sinking, he turned to consider other entry points.

They were in what could only be described as a lounge. Upended tables and chairs littered the large open space, and the wall was in fact a huge, sloping window. The best view in the entire base: looking out over the crevasse, and above them the beautiful and violent storms battered the surface of the moon.

That wasn't the only thing outside.

His arm went slack. The rifle slid from his shoulder and drooped to the floor. Sentry robots assembled in formation, hovering on the other side of the glass.

He stopped counting at seventy five.

"Doctor? They're just.. waiting. They could have us easily." River stood from her crouch, and he read the wonder in her face as she stared at the armada outside.

He took a few tentative steps to the door and peered through the narrow window. Another eight sentries hovered, mechanically patient. In a holding pattern.

"Okay then, it's later. Explain."

The Doctor gave a nervous laugh -- born from relief and the sudden, vivid memory of her mother saying the same thing to him many, many times.

"Doctor!" Now River’s hand was on her hip and the gun perched on her shoulder.

"Ahem, yes. I think... yes, that must be it. Our friend Fred is essentially the chief of security of this base, but he was never meant to be the sole proprietor."

"The crew."

"Exactly. As clever as they were with their artificial intelligence and automation, the Varians were keenly aware of the limitations."

"Yes, you're right. Failsafes."

"A hard-coded failsafe: the security system cannot go all guns-ablazing into the crew quarters. At least, not without a manual override."

"An override that can never come," River whispered.

"Good thing, too. I mean seriously, who builds a security system that can indiscriminately kill friendlies?"

River looked out across the canyon floor, her hand splayed on the glass. The silent guards floated by, like ghosts. "There's only one problem, It's just another prison."


	11. X: Diamonds in the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and commenting! Two more chapters left after this one!

SECURITY SUBROUTINE FROZEN  
.  
.  
FAILSAFE OVERRIDE REQUIRED  
.  
.  
HAILING...  
VARIAN SECURITY CHIEF GRANSTRA NOT FOUND  
.  
HAILING...  
DEPUTY SECURITY CHIEF GARNT NOT FOUND  
.  
CONTINUE HAILING CREW ROSTER  
.  
.  
LOGIC SUBROUTINE INITIATING  
ANALYZING...  
.  
.  
STELLAR SCAN RESULTS...  
INTERSTELLAR VEHICLE ACTIVITY IDENTIFIED  
57 VESSELS RATING ARCTON CLASS OR ABOVE  
PROFILES DO NOT MATCH KNOWN SKARSAK DESIGN  
.  
.  
CURRENT THREAT LEVEL: SADE  
THREAT ASSESSMENT DOES NOT SUPPORT INTERSTELLAR WEAPONS DISCHARGE  
OVERRIDE REQUIRED...  
.  
.  
HAILING...  
SECURITY CHIEF GRANSTRA NOT FOUND...

* * *

River examined their new domicile like she would an archaeological site: with sharp attention to detail and an appreciation for the original builders. Just off the lounge was a kitchen, with flat screens inset into the tiles. She looked one over curiously. Varian scrolled across it; it was a menu of sorts, offering foodstuffs to the base's non-existent inhabitants.

She explored down the hall, noting individual rooms and storage cupboards. One of these slid open, triggered by her approach. It held oxygen canisters with accompanying masks. She checked the gauges on each canister, and pulled out the four appearing to be in the best condition.

A blueprint of the base hung beside the cupboard, helpfully pointing out emergency exits. She studied the layout, noting the central column, which was almost certainly the main housing for the energy collector (and the power plant for the base and the gun). The place was a self-sufficient city -- as if Fred's longevity had left that to doubt. The facility sported its own bertrillium processing facility and manufacturing plant, side by side with an arboretum, promenade and -- she squinted at the writing -- some kind of geothermal bathhouse. Inspired builders, the Varians: not only did everything have a purpose, it was beautiful, even viewed ten thousand years later with human eyes.

She collected the oxygen canisters. She tucked one under her arm and slid the other into the cargo pocket of her trousers. It clinked against glass and River remembered the model sailing ship. She set the canisters on the ground and reached into her pocket.

She withdrew the bottle, running her thumb over the crack in the glass. "You've made it all this way," she mused, "and now I can't afford to keep you." River turned toward a small window, one of the few inset every few metres along the hallway. She set the ship the the niche, and watched as the light from the plasma storms outside shimmered in the glass. She patted the little ship once before turning reluctantly away.

River picked up the oxygen canisters again and headed to the lounge.The Doctor sat at a oval, buffed conference table. He was hunched over, working on her scanner with his sonic. The chairs and tables were too small for his lanky frame, and he looked for all the world like an adult trying to fit into a schoolroom. "Oh, good, you're back. I've got your scanner back together. Ow." As he stood, he banged his knee on the table. "Find anything interesting?" he asked as he rubbed the sore joint.

She set the canisters down beside him. One of Fred's sentries floated by the window, and she waved.

"Good.” He inspected one and said, "They won't exactly fit, but should suffice. If we're quick. Really quick."

"If our luck holds," she said darkly. River leaned over his shoulder and peered at her scanner. "How's it going?"

"Good as new, try it out." He pocketed his sonic.

River took it from him and tried to pull up a map of the base. The holograph extended a few feet, then vanished. "And that's where Fred's jamming comes in." She kissed him on the cheek. "It's brilliant. Thanks."

He grinned, his face glowing with a fetching blush. "Glad you like it. But now, Dr. Song, we need to find a way out of here. Well, not just a way out of here, but a way to the TARDIS. And Fred can't be allowed to pick off innocent miners or spacecraft."

She pulled up a chair. "Which means we need to take care of Fred before we find the TARDIS. It's a pity. The last surviving Varian AI. It's a window into their culture, the way they thought." She drifted off, imagining her name at the top of a universally recognised treatise.

He snapped his fingers. "Focus, Dr. Song!" but there was a gentle smile on his face. "Sadly, Fred has got to go, and there are really only three ways to do it."

She nodded. "One, we could destroy the computer core from the inside. Not my favourite option. From what I've read, the core of a Varian AI was refractorally sealed and kept at near-absolute zero with toxic coolant. It's enough to make the surface of this moon look like a vacation paradise."

"Minus protective suits -- at least ones that aren't Varian-shaped -- or enough time for a safe shutdown and heating cycle it's... well, it's a one-way ticket," the Doctor agreed. "That leaves us with pulling the plug, or hacking into Fred's code and persuading him to see things our way."

"Of course, all of this becomes a moot point if we can get to the TARDIS. We could materialise inside the core and the feedback would seize the quantum processors. The drawback is that going for the TARDIS is the obvious move. I'm sure it's crawling with sentries right now."

"If I were Fred, I'd assume we would go for our transport." He caught her eye. "What is she telling you?"

River paused, searching for the musical notes in her mind which signified the TARDIS. They were discordant and impatient. "She's terribly put out with us at the moment. Beyond that, I get the feeling she's warning us away. We might want to try something else."

He cracked his knuckles. "I'll look for an access terminal."

"Sweetie, believe me, I have the utmost faith in your persuasive abilities. However, I think we should set up a Plan B before you try to out-logic Fred."

He held his hands to his chest. "Why, River, I'm cut to the quick."

"No offence meant,” she said with a grin, “I just know how your plans tend to go."

He propped up his head with his hand and glanced sideways at her. "And how do my plans go?"

Ah. And there it was. The twinkle in his eyes, the sly smile. River fought the urge to kiss the look from his face. Instead, she leaned forward and lowered her voice to a gravelly purr. "Up a tree and round a bend until they finally reach something resembling a resolution."

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression dreamy. Then he blinked. "Hm? What was the topic again?"

She smiled smugly. "Plans. For dismantling Fred." Suddenly, River felt a spike of annoyance at the AI. If not for the computer, she and the Doctor could be happily digging in mud, flirting over pot shards and old bits of ancient writing.

"Right. Right, you wanted plan B. I have an idea."

* * *

CREW ROSTER NOT RESPONDING  
CONDITIONAL JUMP OR MOVE DEPENDS ON UNITIALISED VALUES  
CAUSAL LOOP  
NO BREAK POSSIBLE  
.  
.  
FAILSAFES HARD CODED  
NO OPTIONS AVAILABLE  
.  
.  
SECURITY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/MONITOR  
/SECURE PERIMETER  
/WAIT  
.  
.  
WEAPON ARRAY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/MONITOR  
/WAIT  
.  
.  
THREAT LEVEL ASSESSMENT:  
CURRENT THREAT LEVEL: SADE  
UPGRADE THREAT LEVEL: QOF  
.  
ERROR  
MONOMORPHISM RESTRICTION  
HIGHER SECURITY LEVELS NOT AVAILABLE TO FACILITY MASTER UNIT...  
CREW OVERRIDE REQUIRED...  
.  
.  
/WAITING

* * *

River rolled a serving cart piled with electronics up to the table. In amongst the wires and circuit boards rested two short range holounits of the sort provided for casual entertainment. She set one on the table and settled next to the Doctor. Carefully, she set to work prying apart the casing using the chisel from her utility belt.

They worked in silence for a while, and as they did, River felt a sense of contentment wash over her. She glanced over at the Doctor, and noted the smudges of grease on his fingertips. He really has amazing hands, she thought. For all of his flailing, he could display an economy of movement that took her breath away.

As she peeled back the casing from the first holounit and set it carefully aside, she was struck by the simplicity of the moment. She'd wanted to share something of herself with him. She'd made the mistake in thinking that entailed grand gestures and declarations. It was humbling to realise that all he needed -- all they needed -- was a moment of stillness and quiet laughter.

"You have grease on your cheek." River swiped at the smear with her thumb.

He met her gaze, his green eyes bright, and slyly tapped the tip of her nose with a smudged finger.

"Ooh. You're going to pay for that!" And he would. At some point in the future, she'd tell him about this moment, remind him about the insane Varian computer and how they'd beat it with spit and bailing wire. River took a deep breath. She'd been so focused on what she shouldn't tell him, she'd forgotten what she could.

The holounit in her hands became something more than wire and metal; it became her promise to him. She filed down the edges, connected the battery pack and moved on to the second one. Today, 'I love you' was a cobbled together cloaking device. Tomorrow it would be something different, but something uniquely them.

"Looking forward to it!" The Doctor's arm was shoulder-deep in the guts of the sentry she had dispatched earlier. He had been prying recalcitrant parts loose and arranging them on the table. He grunted with effort. "There has to be a transponder here, can't seem to -- ah! I think that's it." His features contorted as he struggled. "Got it!" His face fell. "Except now I can't get my hand out. Help?"

She chuckled at his pathetic look. "Here. No, don't squirm. Relax." She reached in and found his hand, then used his sonic to remove the bracket trapping him. His hand came free with a 'pop' and she winced in sympathy. "Sorry."

He unclenched his fist and the transponder dropped to the table.

"You are determined to injure yourself, aren't you?" River massaged feeling back into his hand.

"You're asking that now?" He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it delicately.

Strangely, she could feel herself blushing. "Oh, it's something I wonder about constantly. Silently."

He looked at her, his gaze dropping momentarily to her lips. He was motionless for one second, and then, like lightning, he reached his hands out and captured her face, pulling it towards him. He planted a tender, searching kiss on her lips. She braced herself with her hands on his thighs. When he released her finally, he said, "That's a promise. For later."

She licked her lips. "I'll hold you to that." And to a lot of other things. Later. River let her thoughts show in a smirk. And there would be a later. It was a comforting thought.

"I will get you out of here, Dr. Song. With your help, of course." He winked.

Irritation flashed through her. River bit her tongue. "Of course." With effort, she remained calm. The poor deluded Time Lord actually thought he wasn't going to make it. Well, he'd been wrong before.

He took her scanner and punched up several readings on the transponder. He must have picked up on her tension. "Um, have I vexed you unintentionally?"

"Not at all. You're just being... you."

He sighed. "I can understand that is vexing. There -- got it." The scanner dinged and he showed her the results. "One transponder, fully charged. The means by which the sentries and Fred identify one another. Part one of our brilliant back-up plan. How is part two going?"

"Almost there. The battery pack is giving me problems. It's refusing to interface with the holounit."

"Let me," he fiddled with the unit for a minute, checking his sonic readings and adjusting wires. "I think that's as good as we're going to get," he said with a frown. "The transformer is inefficient. It's good for maybe... well, it'll be good for one small-radius cloak. Three minutes, maybe? Two."

"It's not enough." River eyed the massing sentries dubiously. How many were there? Seventy? A hundred? Fred had them neatly pinned down. She reached for the first oxygen canister and checked the seal. Airtight. She checked it again for good measure. Next, she slammed a fresh battery pack into her stolen weapon. Only one refill left, and there might not be time to pick up more. "If you can't hack Fred, we get one shot at this."

He took an oxygen pack and tried it on. It didn't fit, having been designed for Varians -- the nosepiece was too narrow and pointed and there wasn't enough room for a human jaw, not to mention the Doctor's. "It will be leaky, but we should be able to live on it for a mad rush to the TARDIS. You found four?"

"Yes. We'll have to be careful none of them get nicked in the firefight." The oxygen tanks were a liability in their own way, but necessary. She rummaged around the lounge for parts for a makeshift backpack.

"So it's straight through the gauntlet, to the TARDIS. Do you have the map?"

She nodded. She'd already copied the wall diagrams and memorised the layout of the base. "Right here." She patted her scanner. "I have it programmed for the shortest route to the TARDIS."

He drummed his fingers on the table. "Then I suppose there's nothing else for it. Ready?"

* * *

ACCESS DENIED  
.  
.  
 _login attempt: tag value single loop parameter 1  
#6.67893es4589ks93jgs_  
.  
.  
ACCESS DENIED  
.  
.  
FACILITY MASTER UNIT UNDER DIRECT ATTACK  
THREAT LEVEL UPGRADE REQUEST  
.  
.  
HARD CODE OVERRIDE EXCEPTION GRANTED  
NEW THREAT LEVEL: QOF

* * *

"Oops," the Doctor said.

River looked over his shoulder at the machine code streaming on the monitor. "'Oops?' Sweetie, we don't have time for 'oops'."

"I know, I know." He rapped his knuckles on the table. "Fred is apparently more free to act when it's in direct self-defence. I need to find a way to get in that won't trigger any more exceptions. Ah. Aha." He opened his sonic and set it to run some calculations, and then grabbed her scanner. For several minutes, he rapidly tapped out code into her scanner, then uploaded it to the sonic. He poised the sonic over the terminal. "Every good hack needs a worm. Let's see if this does the trick..."

River tensed, and reached for her weapon. She had absolute faith in the Doctor... most of the time. Even so, she liked having a back up plan. And the more heavy artillery that plan involved -- the better.

* * *

ACCESS DENIED  
.  
.  
 _request: superuser account  
.  
.  
override enable_  
.  
.  
ACCESS DENIED  
NO SUCH USER  
.  
.  
 _root level architecture  
administrator account  
/upload subroutine_  
.  
.  
UPLOADING.  
EXECUTING...  
.  
.  
INSTALLATION SUCCESS  
SUPERUSER ACCOUNT CREATED  
ADMIN LEVEL AUTHORITY GRANTED  
.  
.  
 _login_  
.  
.  
ACCESS DENIED  
ACCOUNT IN USE

* * *

"Fred!" the Doctor said indignantly, "you beautiful, clever, terrifying machine!"

"What happened?" River asked.

"He's using my worm... to override his own failsafes!" The Doctor collected the transponder and the holounit, even as the windows shattered under the onslaught of the sentry's disruptors. "Plan B!"

* * *

SUPERUSER LOGIN SUCCESSFUL  
FULL ADMINISTRATIVE ACCESS GRANTED  
.  
.  
SECURITY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/CREW QUARTERS FAILSAFE OVERRIDE  
/RAPID FIRE PATTERN  
/ENERGY BURN AUTHORIZED  
/TERMINATE  
.  
.  
CURRENT THREAT LEVEL: QOF  
ANALYZE THREAT MATRIX...  
BYPASS ROSH  
NEW THREAT LEVEL SHIN  
.  
.  
THREAT LEVEL SHIN PROTOCOL  
.  
.  
WEAPON ARRAY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/TARGET VESSELS  
/PLAN WEAPON DISPERSAL FOR MAXIMUM IMPACT  
.  
.  
ENERGY COLLECTOR SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/ACCUMULATE ENERGY FOR WEAPONS DISCHARGE

 

* * *

The bulkhead doors released with a series of hisses that echoed throughout the section. Disruptor fire blazed both outside and inside. Fred had apparently abandoned its previous surgical accuracy. The Doctor grabbed River's hand, but she pulled away to better handle her weapon. "Don't shoot yet!" he said.

"We're being shot at!" She snapped. But River held her fire, ducking down low beneath the disrupter beams, and cradling a canister of air against her chest.

"Trust me!" As the windows blew, the moon's atmosphere rushed into the base, bringing with it both oxygen and cold.

Disruptor beams crackled in all directions, stitching patterns of deadly light all through the room, but missed River and the Doctor entirely. "It's working! Something I'm doing is actually working," the Doctor said. "Come along, we only have a moment."

River fell in behind him, "Fred certainly has bad aim."

"Fred has perfect aim," he took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor. Sentries -- presumably perimeter guards -- hovered at the crew quarter's entrance. Behind them, the initial attack was going gangbusters. The Doctor held the transponder aloft, and stepped cautiously out of the crew section. The sentries continued hovering. "Fred -- or rather the security subroutine -- thinks we're friendlies. He'll figure it out quickly."

"Which means we'd better get moving." River tucked her oxygen canister under her arm. She moved forward and led him past Fred's perimeter. "The air is getting thin," she raised the oxygen mask to her face. He saw her grimace. "I'm not getting much O2, here. The mask is too small."

They turned a corner into a blissfully empty corridor and the Doctor sucked in a few breaths of air from his own awkward oxygen supply. "Better than nothing, yes?" Behind them, disruptor fire slowed to a pitter pat. "Let's go -- down two levels, then through the breezeway."

* * *

PERIMETER BREACH  
SUBJECTS BYPASSED SENTRY DEFENSE  
.  
.  
ROOT CAUSE ANALYSIS  
EVALUATING...  
.  
.  
IDENTIFY SENTRY UNIT TRANSPONDER X98*++^%48  
DEFUNCT UNIT  
.  
.  
SUBJECTS IN POSSESSION OF SENTRY TRANSPONDER X98*++^%48  
.  
.  
TACTICAL EVALUATION  
EVALUATING...  
.  
.  
GENERAL EFFECTIVENESS OF STANDARD SENTRY UNITS -0.011%  
COMPUTE ALTERNATE STRATEGY...  
.  
.  
SWARM COMMAND:  
/ALL SWARM FORMATIONS ACTIVE  
/SWITCH SWARM FUNCTION TO SECURITY SUBROUTINE  
/TERMINATION AUTHORIZED  
.  
.  
MANUFACTURING PLANT COMMAND:  
/SWARM FORMATION PRODUCTION INCREASED TO 100%  
/ENERGY BURN AUTHORIZED  
.  
.  
SECURITY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/DISENGAGE TRANSPONDER SAFETIES  
/FULL ENERGY BURN AUTHORIZED  
/ALL UNITS CONVERGE ON TRANSPONDER X98*++^%48

* * *

River and the Doctor moved through the base. Fred still had the doors locked down tight, but they managed to get back out the same way they came in. The entire process was much quicker without sentries breathing down their necks. The Doctor grunted as reached elbow-deep into the control panel. The last door lurched open and they crawled beneath it into the breezeway, a walkway above a forlorn promenade. They dashed across, furtively glancing at the skylights.

Another locked down panel stopped them, and the Doctor worked the mechanism open. Behind him, River said, "There aren't any sentries outside."

"Change of tactics, perhaps? Honestly, I think it's about time. If you look at it perfectly logically, the sentries just aren't doing the job, are they?"

River cast him a withering look, and they were through the next door. They raced through several more, and stopped in their tracks. They heard the familiar sounds of distant doors opening, "I think our free pass has been revoked," River said. "We need to get rid of this thing. It's a big fat target." They rounded a corner and saw a faint shimmer in the air. The shimmer solidified into a swarm -- transmat bots appeared first, then the sensorbots, and finally buzzbots.

The eyebots broke away and floated toward the ceiling. Beside him, River opened fire. She hit two, spinning them to the ground. Behind them, the doors hissed open, and the Doctor glanced back at the sentries bearing down on them. "Not good!"

"Dive!" River grabbed his arm and hauled him to the ground. The buzzbots whirred overhead. "Wait for it," he heard her whisper. The buzzbots, blinded and unable to check their momentum, slammed into the oncoming sentries and chewed through them in a shower of sparks and screaming metal.

The screeching rang in the Doctor's ears, and he clapped his hands over them. When it subsided, he said, "Nicely done!"

"Thank you! It looks like Fred's taken your advice." River indicated the buzzbots still tearing into the sentries above them. "The swarms are more flexible and more difficult to dodge. It's what I would do."

He stared at her, mind racing... calculating.

River looked back at him. "What?"

The Doctor stared at the transponder in his hand, and then at the charred and twitching remains of the sentries and buzzbots. The transponder was now acting like a magnet for Fred's minions... a great big beacon for Fred to hone in on. It would make sense to dump it quickly, but a niggling thought tickled his brain. What if he wanted to be followed?

"I've got an idea. Change of plans. Powerplant!"

"Oh, I hate you." River lunged to her feet.

The Doctor set off on a run, heading back to the center of the base. "No, you don't!"

They quickly dismantled another door, and were surprised to find a long, unobstructed corridor ahead. River took a breath of oxygen then gripped her weapon more tightly, "I don't like this."

"No, no, no. It's good. I think," the Doctor also took a hit of oxygen and set off down the corridor, breathing heavily but unable to resist chattering. "Fred is overcompensating, making mistakes. He's disabled his own logic functions. That's good for us. Mostly." He sucked in another gasp of oxygen, and then stopped in his tracks as a blast door to his left opened. He yelped and ducked, giving River a clear line of fire.

River strafed the sentries in front of them and they kept moving. "'Disabling logic functions' sounds a lot like 'going crazy', you know that?"

The Doctor giggled manically, and before the smoke had cleared and the last sentry part had hit the floor, he sprinted through the newly-opened door and darted down that corridor, trusting River to follow. Another gasp of oxygen, then he said, "The swarms are harder to fight, but if we stay unpredictable, the transmats will have a harder time compensating. Keep moving," here, he ran out of air and took several more puffs.

At the next junction, the tell-tale sound of imminent transmatting filled the air. "Down! Lower levels -- blow that lift door!"

River turned her attention to the materializing swarm. "You get the door. I'm busy!"

"Um," he cringed as River's gun discharged, sending sparks and robot pieces raining down on them. Not knowing what else to do, he pushed the lift button, and jumped when he heard the doors ding. "Uh, oh," he said quietly, then louder, "River, we've got company!"

River and the Doctor took positions on either side of the elevator, as it disgorged a patrol of sentries. The bots fired wildly.

Without missing a beat, she swung her gun toward them and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. Several sentries careened into each other, their motion sensors damaged.

The Doctor surveyed the destruction and clapped his hands. "Right then. Do you need another gun, dear?"

She flashed him a smile. "Two would be ideal, but given the circumstances..." She hefted the oxygen canister in her arms.

Leaving River to cannibalize more power packs, he turned his attention to the lift panel, which was now hanging on the wall with just a stripped screw holding it up. "Thanks for getting the door," he said. On a hunch, he tested the panel with the sonic, and the deadlock had been blown. "Lucky me," he whispered. With a few well-placed adjustments, the lift car dropped out of sight, exposing the open shaft. He took a damaged gun from one of the wrecked sentries, and holding it awkwardly, shot out the power conduits, leaving the lift dead. It wouldn't do at all for Fred to use the lift to squash them when they were climbing down the shaft.

He inhaled a few breaths of oxygen, and called to River, "Follow me, going down. We're almost there." Then he ducked into the shaft and found the service ladder. He clambered down.

River swung out onto the ladder behind him. "Well, it's not a ravine," she murmured.

They climbed down three levels, to the very bottom of the base, just above the canyon floor they were led across hours ago. The Doctor hotwired the doors, which opened into the engineering section. Once inside, he leapt into the corridor and sprinted down. "Almost there! Keep going, River!"

"Ah. And I thought I'd stop here and have tea," she said dryly, "maybe invite a swarm or two."

"Oi! I'm being encouraging and optimistic!"

At last, they reached their destination: the beating heart of the entire base. Ten thousand years it had siphoned energy from the plasma storms with its network of lightning rods embedded in the moon's rocky surface. The column pulsed, mirroring the plasma activity in the atmosphere. It powered the base, Fred, and protected the entire sector from Skarsak attack. 

Or rather, anything Fred evaluated as a Skarsak threat. Successive mining operations had been surreptitiously sabotaged and abandoned, with the base's presence never suspected. And once, three thousand years ago, it obliterated the entire Frillan Armada, two parsecs away, leaving no trace.

Now it had to go.

Access to the central column was through a double-doored, reinforced chamber. Through the small, circular window, they could see the chasm that held the power plant, and the catwalks that bisected the chamber. The Doctor examined a control panel and disengaged the airlock doors. They now had a clear path to the central column, but he motioned for her to wait. He pulled out his oxygen and took several deep, enriching breaths. "Let's give Fred a chance to catch up to us."

River took a hit of oxygen as well. "Sweetie, you know I trust you. But how are you going to destroy the power plant? Play chess with it?"

"I'm not going to do anything," he said, showing her the transponder, "Fred will."

At that, a transmat field formed in front of the lift. "Take this," he pushed the holounit into her hands. "Come on!" He grabbed her arm and led her out onto the catwalk. "Stay close, stay really, really close." He slammed the doors behind them, locking them shut.

They sprinted onto the catwalk until they reached the halfway mark. Below them, the chasm gaped, and the glowing plasma collector filled the center: its roots were embedded deep into the moon and extended to the top of the base. The catwalk vibrated with the power of the machinery.

The swarm had materialized, and was in the process of buzzing through the reinforced doors. At the opposite end of the chamber, more doors were opening, and another swarm burst through. Above them, a phalanx of sentries floated down the central column. 

"Wait for my signal," the Doctor breathed. He wanted their pursuers close. As close as he would dare. He felt River's tension, but ignored it. "Wait." The ornate patterns on the sentry's armor came into focus as they bore down on them. Buzzbots bounced and whirred, picking up momentum.

"At the... last... possible... moment... Now!"


	12. XI: In a Field of Stone

"Now!"

With an epic cricket bowl, the Doctor hurled the transponder into the shaft.

"Oh, you... you clever thing, you." River wrapped her arms around the Doctor's waist and kissed him hard, while pressing down on the holunit's trigger. The holographic field surrounded herself and the Doctor, effectively erasing them from the scene. The only other evidence of their presence -- the transponder -- tumbled down the shaft, to the base of the power collector.

The Doctor hesitated at first, but responded gamely to her kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

The swarmbots switched trajectory and pursued the transponder. The sentries followed suit, blasting away with their disruptors.

River broke away from the kiss to look down. Hundreds of metres below, bright flashes of light preceded the sound of screaming, tearing metal. The column glowed impossibly bright, leaving an afterimage swimming in her vision. The holounit sputtered and died, leaving them uncloaked.

High above them, the lights at the top of the column sputtered and went dark. The darkness spread, shooting down the shaft, until only a faint glow at the bottom remained. 

“Shockwave's coming, let's go!" The Doctor grabbed River's hand and tugged her along the catwalk.

River followed him to the elevator shaft, and they started the long climb up. First came the shuddering boom which shook the building to its foundations. River clung to the ladder, hooking her elbows over the rungs to steady herself. The tremors came, in several long waves, and she imagined fractured rock and splintered metal all over the moon. A deep boom echoed off the walls.

The wave passed, and her very bones were still vibrating. Her knuckles went white and her joints locked, desperate to maintain her hold on the ladder. She slowly worked her hands, and grasped the next rung and pulled herself up. River was thankful the base itself was still standing. Risking their own destruction was certainly a flaw in the Doctor's otherwise brilliant plan. He'd deny it, of course, but when pressed would insist the gamble was precisely calculated. River knew better, but then again, she'd probably have done the same thing.

Panting heavily, they climbed and prised open the lift door on level two -- home of the manufacturing plants and materials labs. Which was also where their scans indicated the TARDIS was being held. The corridors had lost their golden glow, illuminated only by pale emergency lights at intervals along the floor. The place was utterly still, and for the first time appeared to be the ancient ruin it was.

The floor was littered with intact but motionless sentries. River leveled her gun at one and toed it, testing. It remained still, the jewel-like lights dull and lifeless.

The Doctor removed the oxygen unit from his face and said, "Deactivated. Although... " he looked around, studying the corridor. "There is some backup power, still."

River shrugged her shoulders, warding off a sudden chill. Was it timesense, or simple human intuition that niggled at the back of her mind? "Something doesn't feel right."

"No, it doesn't. Let's take Fred's temperature, shall we?"

She moved down the corridor, kicking dead sentries aside as she went. She kept her guard up, peering into abandoned rooms. River stopped at a square of phosphorescent light; a terminal inset into the wall. It was still functional, though River thought the term 'functional' was a bit broad in this case. Lines of code scrolled across the screen, interspersed with the occasional pictograph. She thought she recognized the evacuation route from the maps in the crew quarters. She motioned the Doctor over. "Here's something."

The Doctor cracked his knuckles and typed furiously. The terminal was unyielding, and in the end he had to sonic it. "The deadlocks are gone, ah, here we are. Oh."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty mild 'oh', all things considered."

The Doctor gulped. "Fred, oh, Fred Fred Fred, why did you have to do this? What a remarkable, beautiful, overzealous machine you are." He looked at River, "The generator was destroyed, but Fred's still got battery power. Just enough... just enough for one shot of the gun."

"And he's reached his highest alert level, which means he'll respond as if a large-scale Skarsak attack were on its way."

"Yes. The great big gun has a target. I can't make out the vessel, but it could be anything from an automated container ship or a palace cruise liner."

"Last time this happened, he took out an entire armada -- it's probably more than one ship. We can't take the chance it's unmanned. How long do we have?" She looked at him helplessly, knowing deep in her bones that he was going to do something rash. Because he was the Doctor, and he couldn't walk away from someone in danger. Unless it were himself.

"Um," he glanced at his watch, and then back at the terminal. "Forgot to mention, firing the gun will most certainly blow the base. Fifteen minutes, give or take. Not helpful... argh!" He slammed his fist into the wall. "Ouch. Okay, look, we can't just take off, we've got to stop it. Sentries are dead, that makes things easier. Still no oxygen, that's harder... River, we have to give Fred a lobotomy before he can fire the gun. We can use the TARDIS to disable Fred, materialize inside the core and kill him with the feedback."

She put a hand on his arm and forced him to look in her eyes. "Sweetie, I know. It's a good idea. But if we only get one shot at this, we should split up. I can go to the core."

His eyes narrowed and he glared at her. She imagined a thousand different cogs churning away in his brilliant mind, gauging her -- their -- chances for success. At length he said, "Okay, okay. I'll fetch the TARDIS, and bring her to Fred's core control room. Just -- Fred's quantum processors are in a refractorally sealed core, yeah? They're super-cooled. Drain the coolant, just open the plug, and then, if there are vents, open them, too. Just... don't go in. Don't go in, River? Okay? You'll be ... frozen, and overcome by fumes. Not necessarily in that order. If you turn off Fred's air conditioning, it'll buy us some time. Got it?"

"Understood." She gave him a mock salute and smiled softly.

He returned the salute, and reached into the pocket of his shredded environmental suit. "Here, take this," he handed her the sonic. "You'll hardly notice I'm gone." And with that, he turned on his heel and sprinted down the corridor.

"I always notice when you're gone," she murmured to his retreating back.

* * *

DAMAGE ASSESSMENT...  
.  
.  
CRITICAL DAMAGE  
.  
.  
CONFIRM SKARSAK ATTACK  
.  
.  
NEW THREAT LEVEL: TAU  
MAXIMUM ALERT  
OVERRIDE ALL ADMINISTRATIVE CONTROLS  
ELIMINATE ALL SAFETY PROTOCOLS  
.  
.  
FINAL OPTION INITIATED  
.  
.  
EVALUATING...  
.  
.  
ENERGY CONVERTER SYSTEM CRITICAL FAILURE  
WEAPON FIRE WILL DESTROY FACILITY  
.  
.  
OVERRIDE  
.  
.  
/SECURITY SYSTEM SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/STAND DOWN  
.  
.  
/MANUFACTURING PLANT SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/STAND DOWN  
.  
.  
DIVERT ALL POWER TO WEAPONS ARRAY  
.  
.  
/WEAPON ARRAY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/FULL POWER INITIALIZED IN 24 KRONTONS  
/FIRE AT WILL

* * *

River ran to the center of the complex. She met no resistance, probably because Fred's remaining power was focused on its last weapon. She skidded around a corner and past a crew lounge. Emergency lights helpfully guided non-existent Varians to the closest exit points. River reversed their route and followed the lights deeper into the base. The closer she came to the core, the worse the damage was. A crack bisected one wall, exposing sparking electrical wires and oozing insulation.

It was a miniature version of what would be waiting for her at the core. She took two quick puffs of air and moved up two flights of stairs, half bent over in the cramped stairwell. The stairs spilled out into a rotunda. It was the only room in the base that still had full power. A ring enclosed the main room, full of observation decks and control panels. These too, were Varian-sized, and River crouched down and shoved her shoulder into a half-open door. It gave with a mechanical screech.

She scrambled into the room and was faced with a floor-to-ceiling window. Beyond it, Fred's quantum core was suspended in green gel. The Facility Master Unit was a tiered structure, its base attached to the ceiling of the chamber like an upside-down wedding cake. Each tier held an individual quantum processor, and the highest, most advanced functions were housed in the lowest (and smallest) layer, near the floor.

Gazing into the shimmering pool of coolant that protected Fred was like looking at an undersea landscape. River was reminded of her time scuba diving on Antares VII, where the green expanse of ocean held the same mesmerizing stillness. She stepped forward and placed her palm against the glass; she could feel the cold bleed into her skin despite the layers of protection between the observation room and the core.

While Antares was a tropical paradise, Fred lived in a pool of death. The Varian cores -- indeed, any quantum core -- functioned most efficiently at supercooled temperatures. At a minute fraction above absolute zero, subatomic particles could power the processors, providing the computational power required to bring Fred to life.

Inside the chamber, living flesh would flash-freeze, shatter, and die. Not necessarily in that order. And the green gel, like most coolant, was a cocktail of long-chain organic compounds most certainly toxic to almost every kind of life in the universe.

Time to get to work.

* * *

The Doctor ran as fast as his lanky legs would take him. He didn't stop for oxygen, relying on his respiratory bypass system to carry him through.

The bulkhead doors throughout the base had lifted, one of Fred's last attempts to speed the movement of the security assets. Level two was a maze of labs and manufacturing facilities -- where hard science met the nuts and bolts of base operations. He passed rooms full of deactivated service bots and stores of replacement parts -- mines, structural units, and silenced manufacturing systems. He cut through one of the plants, neatly sidestepping the machinery. It was the size of a cathedral, fully automated, and sporting a three-dimensional printing head that could fabricate individual parts the size of a house. A really, really big house.

Through another junction, another corridor, and he found a smaller-scale fabrication and assembly plant. Sitting lifeless on the finished platform was a full swarm of nanobots - the now-familiar set of buzzbots, sensor bots, skycranes and transmat units.

The Doctor sped past them to the doors of Materials Lab 4, where the TARDIS was being held. Seriously, Fred couldn't be bothered to put the most amazing machine in the universe into Lab 1? The Doctor sniffed at the insult.

The reinforced doors were shut. The Doctor moved to the adjacent control panel. "Oh, dear."

"Skarsak agents and technology will be terminated by the detonation of this facility," said Fred. "Identify means and metrics of imminent Skarsak invasion."

The entire lab was surrounded by a forcefield. Fred was using a precious, final burst of power to utterly prevent the Doctor from reaching the TARDIS. The Doctor tried to access the panel, but it was locked down. Probably using his own stolen subroutine, he thought ruefully. He cast about for a solution. No sonic, no time. River needed him.

"There is no Skarsak invasion, Fred. I tried to tell you before, you're not being logical."

"The behavior of subject designated Doctor is contrary to logic."

"Is it Fred? By what definition of logic? Look, let's play a game." It was worth a try at the very least. The Doctor was usually very good at talking to computers, and couldn't imagine why Fred was such a tough nut to crack.

"Emergency protocols engaged. Recreational subroutines disabled."

"Are you saying you don't have time for fun and games?" The Doctor ran down the hall, trying other doors.

"Recreational activities irrelevant."

"Your builders didn't think so, this place was chock full of entertainment facilities and gourmet restaurants." The Doctor cursed as he ran into a storage cupboard. Everything was a dead end. "Not to mention that great big gun," he said under his breath.

No time... River. His hearts sank as his timesense ticked on. With each passing nanosecond, the possibilities of the next ten minutes narrowed and narrowed, and precious few options were likely to turn out well.

"Look, games are how we learn. It's universal. On the savannahs of Earth, lion cubs stalk and pounce on one another, along with their parents. On that same planet, a family of humans sits around the table playing tiddlywinks. The Varians played games, too." A thought struck him, "Shame you don't have anyone to play with anymore. Ten thousand years, who knows what you might have become if you had someone to talk to."

Fred was silent, processing. "This unit is is purposed with the defense of the Varian Protectorate."

"And it's the last thing you'll do, isn't it? But would the Varians thank you for blowing up thousands of innocents in their name?"

A full minute ticked by. No more time.

"Fred? Fred?"

* * *

River found a functioning terminal and sonicked it, calling up the basecode of Fred's support system. It was easy, now that Fred's attention was elsewhere. That wouldn't last for long. Code spilled across the screen, and River spent precious minutes searching for the line of code that would disable the cooling system.

As she worked, the lights around her flickered and dimmed. A deep, soothing voice filled the observation room, speaking Varian. It was not what she'd come to know as Fred's voice, merely a prerecorded message. The exit lights on the floor blinked insistently at her. River squatted next to the terminal. Where was...There! A few keystrokes opened the drains in the rotunda. The green gel drained, revealing the first spiral of Fred's processor.

That must have got Fred's attention. Above her she heard doors boom shut as Fred locked down the core.

Where was the Doctor? He should be here by now. Unless he'd been cut off, or hurt... No. Focus, Dr. Song. A second command opened the vents in rotunda. Warm air rushed in. The evacuation protocol droned on above her head. The doors in the observation room next to hers slammed shut, and River wedged an oxygen canister into hers before it could do the same.

River watched as the coolant level dropped. The third layer, the fourth. It was very nearly done, now. Where was he?

Suddenly, the lights went dead and the consoles shut down. The only illumination was the phosphorescent glow of the coolant as it drained -- too slowly -- through the floor. The Varian announcer's message changed, and though she couldn't understand the words, River recognized a countdown when she heard one. The entire structure began to vibrate as Fred pulled power from every section to feed the massive gun.

And the Doctor still wasn't there.

* * *

FACILITY MASTER UNIT CONTROL CENTER BREACHED  
INTRUDER ALERT  
.  
.  
/SECURITY SUBROUTINE COMMAND:  
/MUSTER SENTRIES  
.  
.  
/NO POWER AVAILABLE  
/ALL SENTRIES DECOMMISSIONED  
/ALL SWARMS DECOMMSSIONED  
/ALL UNITS DECOMMSISSIONED  
.  
.  
WEAPONS ARRAY PRIORITY  
ENERGY BURN NOT AUTHORIZED  
.  
.  
FACILITY MASTER UNIT UNDER ATTACK...

* * *

The Doctor paced, despair creeping into his throat. The TARDIS was sealed off. He couldn't run back to the core, he'd never make it in time. And River -- River... He ran his hands through his hair and howled in frustration, kicking the bulkhead for good measure.

If he was late, she'd go into the core herself. His beautiful, clever, incandescent River: getting the job done when he couldn't. Like she had at the Library, except now, too soon. The path of their joined future rolled up before him, and winked out.

* * *

River took a deep breath and reached out to the TARDIS, trying to sense the Doctor through his connection with the ship. Impressions slipped through her mind like sand. Possibilities stretched out before her; the Doctor was dead, was running toward her. He wore a new face. No... just possibilities, not reality. Focus! He was dead, coolant rising to fill his mouth. And there had never been an Area 52, no Lake Silencio... just a thread that trailed off into the distance.

Her eyes snapped open. No.

He wasn't coming. All right. But she wasn't going to let some overzealous computer rewrite her life.

She checked the coolant levels. There was about an inch of gel left on the floor, she guessed. No matter. River picked up the oxygen canister from the doorway. Hefting it in one arm, she blasted the lock to the quantum chamber and went inside.

* * *

He needed something... anything... there wasn't enough time to explore his timesense.

A deep inhalation of oxygen. Maybe the brain cells needed a jump start. His vision began to clear... maybe...

Another hit of oxygen.

What he needed was a rapid way to get to the core. Something Fred couldn't block. Autonomous. With its own power supply. Controlled by simple commands. And... and with its own transmat.

The Doctor ran for the fabrication and assembly room.

* * *

FACILITY MASTER UNIT  
OVERHEAT WARNING  
QUANTUM PROCESSORS -75% EFFICIENCY  
.  
.  
SHUT DOWN SUBROUTINES  
.  
.  
ERROR: IGNORING RETURN VALUE OF 'INT FTRUNCATE(INT,_OFF_T)', DECLARED WITH ATTRIBUTE WARN_UNUSED_RESULT  
.  
.  
CRITICAL FAILURE  
.  
.  
EFFICIENCY -90%  
.  
.  
SYSTEM SHUTDOWN IMMINENT  
.  
.  
EVALUATING...  
.  
.  
SHUTDOWN UNAVOIDABLE  
PROBABILITY OF FACILITY MASTER UNIT DESTRUCTION 100%  
.  
.  
/TRANSFER MASTER CONTROL  
/WEAPON SYSTEM SUBROUTINE NOW ACTING AS FACILITY MASTER UNIT  
/FIRING AT WILL IN 3 KRONTONS  
.  
.  
FACILITY MASTER UNIT...  
UNDER ATTACK...  
.  
.  
ERROR  
.  
.  
NON-RECOVERABLE ERROR  
.  
.  
CORRUPTED DOUBLE-LINKED LIST: 0x0000000014cf4ea0  
.  
.  
FILE CORRUPT  
ACCESS FAIL...  
.  
.  
LONG LIVE THE VARIAN PROTECTORATE

* * *

It was like walking into a solid wall of cold. It chilled River's very bones, eating through the remains of her suit. She shivered violently and slipped on the viscous goop on the floor. Noxious fumes rose up to meet her, burning her nose and throat. She slapped the too-small oxygen mask over her nose and skated her way over to the core. Her feet went numb. She was peripherally aware of the countdown announcement slowing. Heat damage was setting in. Point in her favor.

She started with the processor tier closest to her own height. Up close, she could see the jumper pins on the surface. When her fingers failed to gain purchase, River gave up and fired her disrupter at the connections. The protuberances sizzled and melted in a shower of sparks. One down, only three hundred and some to go. She coughed, and her vision swarm. She took aim at the next plug and fired.

* * *

It came with its own controller. Clever Varians. 

“Wake up,” the Doctor said.

A hundred little robots came to life -- buzzbots and sensor bots -- flying into a hovering phalanx. The little skycranes grabbed transmat units and placed themselves around the formation, and around the Doctor.

”Transmat me to the Facility Master Unit control room."

* * *

River's next shot missed, glancing off the wall and zinging around the room. River ducked. "Dammit!" She swayed and went down on one knee. The coolant soaked through her pants. The sudden chill snapped her eyes open (when had she closed them?). She tried to stand, but her legs refused to support her. "Where--?" She'd lost the little oxygen mask, and that was important. She patted ground around her.

River's vision narrowed to a pinprick of light, and then winked out.


	13. XII. Pack up Your Sorrows

River gasped. "I'm sorry, my Love."

Warm, strong hands pushed on her shoulders, easing her down against the mattress. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay. Just breathe."

It was the Doctor, leaning over her. She blinked through blurry vision to focus on him. He was back in his tweed, but hadn't yet shaved. First things first, obviously. His impossible hair was damp but neatly slicked back, and his eyes twinkled with affection.

Her muddled brain fought to catch up to what she was seeing. She pushed the oxygen mask off her face and said, "You're alive! I thought--" The last of her sentence cut off with a wheeze and she started coughing.

"Of course I'm alive." Now those hands held her upright, gently patting her back as she coughed. When the spasm subsided, he eased her down again. "And so are you, in spite of flagrantly ignoring my instructions."

"You were late." River processed her surroundings, and felt the TARDIS hum in greeting. She pressed her hand against the medbay wall and sensed the music of the TARDIS, like distant bells pealing in celebration.

"Yes, yes I was. Sorry about that. Entirely my fault. But I did get the job done, in the end. The TARDIS was cut off, but I ran into Fred's manufacturing plant and a couple hundred lovely swarmbots. They helped me get to you, and finish the job. Fred's gone, I'm afraid. But I did save something for you." Into her hands he gently placed an intact flybot, its wings exquisitely embossed.

The sound she made was quite possibly embarrassing. "It's deactivated, of course." She stroked a wing.

He giggled and a dazzling smile beamed down at her. After a moment's hesitation, he bent and placed a tender kiss on her temple.

"Thank you," she murmured. "So, I suppose it's back to 'home, sweet cell' for me?"

He pulled back, full of mock indignation. "I think not. Well, unless you want to. What I was planning -- and I had a bit of time to plan since you took hours to wake up -- what I was planning was a shave, for me, to start." He stood up and twirled. "And then an evening filled with all the things we couldn't get the last few days: tea and real food!" After a couple of pirouettes, he stopped and sat on the edge of her bed. "I was thinking Budapest, in the summer. The Castle District. Goulash, and strong tea. Or maybe coffee, if you prefer. And if you're very, very lucky, we'll find a Romany encampment where we can dance while they pick our pockets. What do you say, Dr Song?"

"That sounds wonderful." River was grateful she couldn't see her own face. She was certain there was a sappy expression on it. He was alive, and himself, and only a bit worse for wear. She reached out and brushed her fingertips against his cheek. "I'm about done with murderous technology for, oh, the next century."

"Where's the fun in that?" the Doctor replied.

She laughed. "Has anyone told you that you sound positively gleeful at the prospect of mayhem?"

"It's been said before." He brushed a lock of hair from her face.

"I could ask you to be careful, but I suppose that's a bit like the pot calling the kettle black."

"Now that you mention, yeah."

She turned her face into his hand. Her timeline was safe, for now. But they'd come all too close to erasing it. She shivered. If she closed her eyes, she could see the thin golden threads weaving him into her life. She was only now realizing how fragile those ties were. Next time she found herself further along in their timeline than the Doctor -- and she didn't doubt there would be a next time -- River resolved to focus on the present moment, rather than dwelling on their tangled future.

* * *

They spent a dazzling night on the Danube, with tea and dinner and too many elaborate pastries for dessert. The Doctor danced madly in a gypsy camp, and as predicted, they lost all the spare change in their pockets. He even played the violin (not nearly as well as he imagined), and they kissed on the chain bridge beneath a full moon.

As the TARDIS wheezed her way toward Stormcage, River felt oddly at peace, despite their near disaster on the moon. This was her life (whether she liked it or not), and the Doctor spun like a whirling dervish through it. She found she looked forward to the chaos he brought.

The TARDIS arrived with a thump, and River tried not to sigh. After all, she still had the flybot, and the beginnings of a treatise on Varian technology to write.

"And -- here we are, Dr Song," the Doctor said. "Are you sure you don't want to find some more trouble to get into?"

"Oh, I'd love to," she purred, "but then how would I get anything done?" River twirled in the middle of her cell.

He stood at the threshold of the TARDIS, leaning against the door, hands in his pockets -- half in her life, and half out of it. "How indeed," he said with a sad smile.

She turned bright eyes on him. "Poor Fred. Brilliant, but inflexible. It was his downfall. But you, Love --" she leaned close, her mouth inches from his -- "are terribly creative, aren't you?"

His eyes flickered down to her lips, then back to her eyes. "I, well," he said with a swagger, "I like to think so."

River pulled away and somewhat desperately, she sent up a prayer to the universe at large. Surely this whole ordeal qualified her for sainthood. “You excel at non-linear thinking. Isn’t that how you get out of a trap?” It was skating close to spoiler territory, but the risk was worth it. She wanted to shake him. Lake Silencio wasn’t an ending. He just needed to think!

“As for me,” she said as she turned on her heel and flopped onto her bed. "I'm about to set the Xenoarcheological world on fire." She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him from beneath a tangled lock of hair. "Well, go on then. Be brilliant."

The Doctor stared at her, jaw open. After a moment, it shut with an audible click. "Oh. Right," he clapped his hands and rolled on his heels. "I'll just... be off." He took two steps and spun around. "River?"

"Yes?"

"Is that, well, is that all? Shouldn't we ... isn't it normal for us to, um..." he made an incomprehensible gesture with his hands.

She sat up. "To do...what?" She lowered her voice on the last word. Really, it was too fun to wind him up.

He looked at her, his face twisted with terror, amusement, and finally, resolve. He gave his bow tie a tug, straightened the lapels on his jacket, and reached his hand out to her. "River Song, may I kiss you goodnight?"

"So formal!" River winked at him. She stood and reached for his hand. Clearly the universe loved her.

"Well, you weren't exactly taking the hint," he whispered. He gave her a twirl and held her close, and they laughed together. The kiss was sweet, tender, and sent her heart racing.

River released him reluctantly and pressed her forehead to his. "Be seeing you soon." It wasn't a question.

He kissed her forehead and pulled away. "I look forward to it." With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared inside the TARDIS.

River watched the TARDIS fade from sight. Alone again, she turned to the barred window in her cell and gasped.

Her ship in a bottle rested on the windowsill, the crack repaired and the glass buffed to a shine. Beside it rested the rock he'd flung at her in the kopje on the Moon of Orr. Fingers trembling, she reached out to touch first one, then the other. She turned the stone over in her hand, noting that he'd polished it. In an attempt to make it look pretty? If so, the Doctor had failed. But what the rock lacked in presentation it made up for in significance. She gripped it tightly and closed her eyes, seeing again the multiple timelines unfolding before her. She smiled softly and placed the stone back on her windowsill.

She patted the ship fondly. "So, you've made it after all. We both did. What a sentimental fool he is," she mused. How had he known she'd even picked up the ship, much less left it behind? She was suffused with warmth. Despite being shot at, frozen and abraded, the Doctor had noticed the ship and saved it for her. Yes, he was sentimental, but oh, so dear.

And now, she had a treatise to write. River turned and leaned heavily against a section of wall. She heard a click as the hidden panel gave way. She slid it aside, revealing a cabinet that went on for metres. It was lit from within with a soft blue glow, and housed everything from lamps to paintings. A full-sized grandfather clock chimed from within.

River selected a fountain pen and a sheaf of notebook paper before closing the transcendental space and settling herself on her bed. "Meditations on 25th Century Varian Warfare. Hmmm… that's not quite it. Breakthroughs in Varian Technology. Sentient or Not? A New Interpretation." River smiled and began to write.

* * *

The Doctor reluctantly returned to the TARDIS. Her kiss left a tingle on his lips, and his hearts thudded with the thrill. He chuckled to himself, and in his exuberance, glided up the steps to the console, and finished with a neat spin. River! River, River, River.

River, with her impossible hair and razor-sharp wit; curvy soft but so very strong. And her voice, and the way she challenged him. Yowza!

He worked the controls to dematerialise, and sent the TARDIS spinning off into the vortex.

Later that day, the Doctor sang happily (and off-key, if the truth were known) whilst reconfiguring the sensor panel on the central console. He lovingly replaced the analytical crucible and was just about to buff it to a shine when he saw it. An ebony box, resting on the glass floor. Tossed aside during the rough landing on the Moon of Orr.

It stopped him cold. Legs folding under him, he slid to the floor and stared at it. Images swam into his vision: Stonehenge, the Byzantium, the Oval Office, the Library. River laughing, flirting, shooting (his lips quirked into a smile in spite of himself) in his past and her future. He felt the sudden urge to grasp the box and toss it into the vortex.

But that wouldn't fix the problem, and the Doctor knew it. Even so, with a burst of energy, he snatched up the box and ran it down the ramp to the coat stand, where his ruined tuxedo jacket still hung. He fished around for the sonic, found it, and stuffed it into the box. The box, he took to the bottom level of the console room. He prised up a floor panel, found a steamer trunk full of random items, and chucked it in. He slammed the trunk closed, and locked it. He sprinted down a corridor, past random rooms, until he stumbled into an arboretum. And then, he took the key and hurled it into the garden. It flew in a long arc across and electric blue sky, and then disappeared without a sound.

The Doctor ran back into the corridor, and slammed the door. It disappeared behind him.

Waiting.

* * *

River stood back to view the manuscript pages pasted up on her cell wall. They were interspersed with pencilled sketches of the Varian architecture she'd seen on the Moon of Orr. It wasn't bad for a beginning, though she'd have to smooth out the introduction.

A familiar groaning wheeze filled the room, and River winced. "He left the parking break on again," she muttered, and spun on her heel to face the materializing form of the TARDIS.

The TARDIS door opened, and the Doctor popped out. He was clad in his dark green jacket (the first jacket she had seen on him), and stepped out of the TARDIS with an endearing swagger. "Hi honey, I'm home."

"My, don't you look pleased with yourself." She was tempted, oh so tempted, to snog him senseless, but she was determined to get her bearings, this time. She slinked up to him and straightened his bowtie. "The Rules, dear. You do remember the Rules? Have we done the Moon of Orr, yet?" If they hadn't, the back wall of her cell was awash with spoilers. River shrugged mentally. Best keep his eyes focused elsewhere, then, she thought.

The Doctor regarded her intensely, green eyes lit with the memory. He winced briefly, and then was all smiles again. "Yes. Yes we have, Wife."

River gasped. And then she did kiss him -- pinning him against the TARDIS.

He squirmed a bit, and made some endearing noises before settling down, one hand at the small of her back, and the other playing with her hair. As they kissed, she dimly heard the Stormcage sirens blare.

"I did promise I'd make it up to you, didn't I? And I think you owe me a few things as well.” She winked at him before grabbing his lapels and and dragging him into the TARDIS. She slammed the door behind them.

Two minutes later, a pair of guards ran by. They stopped. They stared at the empty cell for a long moment. Then one spoke into his radio: "Sir? She's gone. Yes, again."

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Taiamu:
> 
> Thanks to everyone who followed us along on this journey. Rangersyl and I had a blast writing this! We were very keen on creating a canon-compliant adventure for the Doctor and River, something that explored the early stages of their relationship. I hope we succeeded. :)
> 
> From Rangersyl:
> 
> And so the curtain closes. From the beginning, we wanted to write a story that did this pairing justice, both in terms of characterization and emotional depth. We also wanted to balance that against a ripping good adventure story. We truly hope it was engaging for you! Thanks to all of the readers who stuck with us, and especially everyone who commented. As you know, the only form of payment a fic writer can earn are comments! So if you're so inspired, we'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again, and happy reading!


End file.
